


Things Bucky Barnes Doesn't Do Well

by taralkariel



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Fluff, Gen, Post CATWS, and AoU never happened, avengers tower shenanigans, based on prompt requests, pretend they found bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4536084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralkariel/pseuds/taralkariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier was a perfect asset and it's been a long time since he's had to learn something new. Now, in Avengers Tower with Steve and some new friends, he learns how to deal with: pop culture, fashion, online dating, go-kart racing, paintball, and more! A series of (generally fluffy) vignettes from user prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Non-Lethal Competition, Part I

Bucky does not like the idea of leaving Avengers Tower.  He hasn’t been there very long, but the others are restless and need to blow off some steam.  Apparently, attacks from otherworldly creatures or plots from evil organizations do not happen enough for some of the residents.  But he remembers enough about Steve to know that getting him to lighten up is an important job, one he must remember to do frequently or the little guy ( _big_ guy) will be unbearable.

So when Stark’s kid, Tony, suggests they all go out clubbing (not the violent reference he initially thinks), he throws in with him.  Much to everyone’s surprise.

“See, even the Summer Sergeant wants to go,” Tony says triumphantly.

Natasha rolls her eyes.  “Maybe he’s not the most reliable person to consult,” she suggests dryly, but she gives Bucky a wink.

He smiles.

“Come on, guys, it’ll be fun!  Cap, you can bring your favorite super-spy.  It can be a date,” Tony continues, grinning.

“It could make for an enjoyable evening, Steve,” Thor suggests, turning to look at his friend.  Steve is frowning, looking as serious as ever.

Tony claps Thor on the shoulder, delighted at the support.  “You and Jane, me and Pepper, Cap and Sharon,” he pauses for a moment, then grins mischievously.  “That Soviet Union over there,” he adds, waving toward Bucky and Natasha.

A laugh is startled out of Steve at that, while Natasha adopts a mock-indignant expression.

“Excuse me, Stark, but I don’t recall agreeing to make your triple date a quadruple one,” she tells him.

“Yeah, I’m sure you hate dancing,” Tony teases.

She tosses her hair, hands on her hips, and turns to look at Steve appraisingly.  “Well, Cap, you’re in charge here.”

Steve hides his smile, but Bucky can tell it’s difficult for him.  He and the ex-Russian spy are surprisingly close, all things considered.  After realizing all eyes are on him, Steve adopts his Captain America face.  It’s familiar, and Bucky is struck with the thought of seeing it before, during the war, where the evening’s entertainment was concerned.  Something about the boys wanting to go to the bar before Steve was quite done debriefing them.  He wonders if Steve has the same memory.

“Alright, fine, let’s go have some fun,” Steve relents at last.

“Great!  I know of the perfect place.  Very discreet.  Go call your lady friends, and we can pick them up,” Tony says happily.

The three men quickly leave the living room to get ready, leaving Bucky alone with Natasha.  He glances up at her, perched on the back of the couch by the window, and clears his throat.  Watching the others, she turns her attention to him and smiles.

“Do you want to go?” he asks quietly.

She shrugs.  “I do love to dance.  Not sure how he knew that,” she adds, wrinkling her nose in Tony’s direction.  “But I do.  Come on, let’s go find you something appropriate to wear.”  She gets to her feet and he looks down at himself, supposing that sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt are not the right attire for many activities.  Comfortable, though.  But Nat’s great with clothes, so he doesn’t mind following her.

 

An hour later, they are at a club.  All of them are dressed up, though he wouldn’t say formally.  Jackets and/or vests, but not the kind of thing he would wear to, say, a ballet (another kind of dancing).  Natasha and the other ladies are all wearing dresses, though sleeker and showing more skin than a formal setting would likely require.  And sneakers, which look oddly more fitting than heels would.  He’s wearing gloves to cover up his left hand, somewhat concerned to be out in public with it.  It’s certainly noticeable to the touch.  And as discreet as Tony considered this place, they have plenty of company.

There are easily fifty other people in the room, perhaps closer to a hundred.  It’s hard to get a good picture, with the lights flashing and the music (if you can call it that) deafening him.  Still, he spots four exits, but the surging crowd makes none of them predictably available.  Perhaps understanding what he’s thinking, Steve stands a little closer on his left while Natasha slips her arm through his right.

Glancing over their party, he feels a sense of relief at the thought that he is far from the least comfortable in this environment.  Thor is smiling, watching the crowd, but his girl, Jane, looks quite nervous.  Until she looks at Thor and he squeezes her hand.  Then she smiles, too.  Pepper wears an unusually stoic expression, given the situation, but her feelings quickly become clear when Tony drags her into the crowd and starts dancing.  If the others in the room are any indication, he’s pretty good.  Pepper is a little stilted in her movements, but not bad.  Both Sharon and Natasha look quite at ease, but he supposes that may be more because of their training as spies than their true feelings.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Steve mutters toward Bucky before taking Sharon by the hand and leading her shyly onto the dance floor.  It’s apparent that Steve still isn’t quite used to his size, or comfortable in his own skin, but he does alright.  Sharon seems adept, and he soon relaxes enough to follow her lead.

Thor and Jane join in when Steve does, though neither of them are particularly gifted with this talent, and Bucky turns his attention to Natasha.

“You ready to show them the ropes?” he asks her, smiling.

A confident smirk, like a cat would smile, crosses her face as she pulls him forward, down the three steps to the dance floor.  “Always,” she replies.

The music is different – not like the Glen Miller Orchestra (his favorite) or other big bands whose names he has long forgotten.  The dancing is different – not the carefully choreographed steps of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.  But some things never change.  He was good at this, he remembers.  Good at mimicking, good at doing what the others were doing, good at adding a bit of his own flair to make a girl want to stick around.  Now, he’s had years of training of getting his body to do exactly what he wants.  Not for this purpose, of course, (he’s sure none of his missions required anything like this), but it works out to his favor.

And Natasha – well, she’s clearly a born dancer.  Anyone could see that from watching her fight.  They make a good pair, and he decides this is definitely as fun as Tony made it sound.  He lets himself be swept up in the movements, in the music, in watching Natasha, and doesn’t notice right away that people are edging away from them.

When he does notice, his first thought is defensive and he looks for the exits again.  Then he realizes that the crowd is splitting to make room for them, not out of fear, but because of their dancing.  If he were Steve, he would have been too embarrassed to continue.  Past Bucky might have reveled in the attention, despite being uncomfortable with it.  He is neither of them, so he doesn’t react after the initial shock.  He likes dancing, so he continues.  How others might feel about it doesn’t concern him particularly.

Until someone grabs his shoulder, the left one, and he reacts.  The unfamiliar man goes flying back several feet (not nearly as far as he might have if Bucky hadn’t restrained himself), and the crowd’s mood immediately changes.  Natasha gets him out of there before anyone else can do anything stupid, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s why she was brought along in the first place.  That feels like bitterness, though, especially when she takes his hand and tells him it’s okay.

The rest of the party joins them more slowly – Steve and Sharon, then Thor and Jane, Tony and Pepper last because they were doing what they could to calm the crowd – and she releases his hand and moves a little further away.

“I think that went well,” Tony says lightly as he starts the car and turns it toward home.

Pepper makes a politely incredulous sound, glancing back toward them.

“What did that guy want, anyway?” Jane asks quietly, looking at her hands as if uncertain of her welcome here.  Thor takes her hand and smiles at her.

“A picture, I think,” Steve offers, looking as dour as ever.  Mission to get Steve to lighten up: failure.

“I thought you said that place was discreet,” Natasha grumbles, seeming actually angry at Tony.

Tony doesn’t like that, of course.  “If you’re implying that I set that up so your Soviet boyfriend would stop upstaging me, you are quite mistaken,” he says with a delicate sniff.  “My pride would never be wounded by the fact that some guy frozen in ice for seventy years can dance better than me,” he adds, and everyone laughs, even Nat.

Bucky smiles and considers that maybe the mission wasn’t a total failure.


	2. Enjoy Modern Movies

Bucky suffered from nightmares.  Of course he did.  He wasn’t the only one, though.  One night, when they were particularly bad, he gave up on trying to sleep and left his room.  It was a comfort to find that lights came on when he walked past, perhaps motion sensory, or perhaps it was JARVIS.  In any case, they were dim enough to be comfortable but bright enough to make him feel less frightened and alone.  He paced the floor for a while, contemplating the disorganized mess of memories that was his brain before he heard voices.

Following the sound to the living room, he was surprised (and slightly embarrassed) to find Pepper and Tony occupying the space.  Tony was sprawled on the couch, complaining assiduously, while Pepper sat next to him with a fond smile on her face.  Upon hearing his approach, both of them looked up at him sharply, Pepper friendlier about it than Tony.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, starting to turn away.

“Nightmares?” Pepper suggested, arresting his movement.

He turned back enough to nod, and waited.

“I’m sure Rogers is thrilled with how much we have in common,” Tony grumbled, and Bucky frowned at him, intrigued by the comment.

“When Tony has trouble sleeping, we usually come here to watch something familiar.  Like old Disney movies.  Did you ever watch those?” Pepper explained.

He shook his head slowly.

Tony sat up a little more, apparently more interested in the comment than he was in complaining.  “Did you read Grimm’s Fairytales?  Hans Christian Anderson?  Carlo Collodi?”

Clearing his throat, he glanced between the two of them.  “Yeah, Steve’s mom used to read the Fairytales to us,” he offered slowly.

This news brought a grin to Tony’s face, while Pepper just smiled.  “Did you watch any of the Disney movies before you … before the war?” Pepper asked.

The name rang a bell, but he shrugged.  “It’s possible,” he said noncommittally.

“JARVIS?” Tony said, not looking up at the ceiling like most everyone else did when addressed the AI.

“Yes, sir?” the disembodied voice responded politely.

“Cue up some Disney classics.  We need to educate Sergeant Barnes, here,” Tony said, settling back down with a pleased look on his face.

Apparently without a say in the matter, Bucky sat down in the couch across from them, while Pepper gave him a reassuring smile.

They started with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.  It seemed a little familiar to him, and he had a flash of little Steve sitting on his right while a girl sat on his left, but he couldn’t place much more than that.  It seemed appropriately violent, given what he could remember of the source material.  Next was Fantasia.  Tony started to doze off during this one, his head on Pepper’s lap while she played with his hair, and Bucky was considering sleep himself.  It was soothing, for the most part.  Except for that section with the dead things coming to life and dancing around the evil creature on the mountain top.  That was upsetting, and he shifted uncomfortably until Pepper told JARVIS to skip ahead.  He gave her a small smile in relief.

By the end of it, Steve was awake and ready for a jog, given his attire.  A smile quirked on his lips at the sight of the three of them, and he dropped onto the couch next to Bucky.

“What are we watching?” he asked.

“Tony says we need to watch Disney movies,” Bucky replied.

Tony stirred and blinked in their direction.  “Hey, Cap.  Your BFF tells me your mother used to read Grimm’s stuff to you two,” he said.

Turning his gaze to Bucky, Steve lifted an eyebrow.  Surprised he remembered it.  “Yeah, she did.  Why?”

“I’d like to see what you fellas think of the Disneyification of them,” Tony answered, smiling mischievously.

Steve glanced over at Bucky and shrugged.  “Alright, what’s next?”

“Cinderella,” Tony said, both to them and to JARVIS.

The four of them settled back to watch.  Bits of the story put Mrs. Rogers’ voice in his head, reading to them when Steve was sick.  But a lot of it seemed wrong.  He didn’t remember animals being so helpful (they had been in Snow White, too – is that what Tony meant by Disneyification?).  Fairies were much less friendly in Grimm’s tales.  And the evil step-family was definitely let off a lot less severely than in the original.  The violence of the stories was what made two young boys willing to listen, and, while not entirely absent here, certainly decreased substantially.

When it ended, Tony looked at them expectantly.

“Well, that was a nice story,” Steve muttered, bemused.

“Not what you expected?” Pepper asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I remember a lot more gore in the originals.  The sisters cut off parts of their feet to try to fit in the slipper.  And something bad happened to the three of them at the wedding.  Do you remember what, Buck?”

It was his turn to shrug.  “Didn’t birds take out their eyes?”

“Gross,” Pepper said, wrinkling her nose.

Tony looked up at her with a laugh, and sat up.  “Yeah, that’s what happens.  Heavenly doves or something.”

“Probably not the best ending,” Steve offered.

“For a kid’s movie,” Pepper agreed.

There was plenty of violence in kids’ entertainment before, but apparently not anymore.  He hadn’t realized Disney was considered for children, though the fact that it was animated was a good indicator.  Adults preferred to see actors, not ink.  Though he couldn’t recall seeing many adults at the pictures anyway.  So the surprise was more from the idea of shielding children from violence.  Not that he necessarily disagreed with the idea.

“I’d better get going,” Steve said, getting to his feet.

Tony stood as well, stretching.  “You have fun exercising, Cap.  I think I’m going to get some more sleep.”

A sharp look from Steve as he realized why they were all out there, and then he paused, uncertain, watching Bucky.  “Sounds like a good idea, Tony,” Bucky stated, still looking at Steve.  Then he turned to Stark’s kid.  “I’d like to watch more of these sometime,” he offered.

Tony smiled.  “Sure thing, anytime.  Except for right now,” he amended.

“Well, you strong men have fun watching Disney princesses.  I’d better get to work.  You know, running your company,” Pepper said dryly.

It wasn’t often that Pepper made jokes, mainly since Tony was pretty effective at filling any silence, and Bucky and Steve laughed in response.  Pepper flashed them a smile as she led Tony out of the room.  Lingering, Steve glanced over at him.

“You okay, Buck?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.  Just couldn’t sleep.”

Steve nodded slowly.  “Anything we can do to help with that?”

With a shrug, Bucky stood and started heading toward his room.  “I don’t know, but animal sidekicks are starting to sound like something you superheroes should invest in.”

Steve just laughed.


	3. Online Dating

“Come on, man, I don’t need this,” Barton was saying to Tony, both of them standing in front of one of Tony’s screens.

Steve glanced over at Bucky, unfastening his helmet and removing it.  “What’s going on?” he asked conversationally as he continued into the room.  Bucky followed more slowly, thinking he’d rather get a drink and a shower after their latest mission.

Throwing them a grin, Tony answered Clint instead.  “You absolutely do need it.  Think of how left out you’ll be next time we all go out with our lady friends.”

“How is a computer going to help with that?” Steve asked.

Clint rolled his eyes while Tony coughed in surprise.  “He wants to sign me up for online dating,” the former replied.

“It’s a perfectly acceptable form of courtship,” Tony said defensively.

Moving forward to get a look at what they were doing, Bucky’s eyes narrowed.  “How does it work?”  He was relatively familiar with the technological advancements that had been made while he was… busy, but had no idea how they could be applied to something like dating.

“Come check it out, geriatric duo,” Tony answered, waving his arms theatrically.

Steve smiled politely while Clint rolled his eyes again.  Bucky looked over the screen and decided it didn’t look very promising.

Gesturing, Tony filled them in on the mechanics of the site.  “You fill in your information here, put a picture of yourself here, and an algorithm matches you up with people who are compatible with you.”

“Can’t say I’m too fond of algorithms,” Steve grumbled, and Bucky snorted.

“Does it do a good job?” Bucky asked.

Tony shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t say I was using it correctly, before Pepper.”

“But you have been since Pepper?” Clint said dryly.

Shooting him a glare, Tony adopted a convincingly innocent expression.  “Why would I use it at all?”

“Why do you think Clint needs it?” Steve interrupted effectively.

“Maybe I’d just really like to sit everyone boy-girl at our formal dinners,” Tony muttered defensively.

Clint laughed.  “Oh, right, all the formal Avengers dinners everyone’s always talking about.  I guess I’d actually be invited to one if I brought a girl.”

“What about Bruce?” Steve wondered aloud.

“Cap, do you need your eyes checked?  Bruce is clearly of the male persuasion,” Tony said in a stage whisper.

Steve waved his hand, as if he could wave the comment away.  “I mean, why aren’t you bugging him about this program?  Or have you already gotten him signed up?”

“Maybe I’m trying to get all my single friends back in the game.  Birdguy here, the rage monster downstairs, Capsicle, the two brainwashed Russian spies.”  The tone in which Tony spoke sounded long-suffering and Bucky questioned where Pepper was.  Clearly, Tony needed some attention.

Laughter met his statement, particularly from Clint.  “You think ‘Tasha would willingly do something like this?” he asked, incredulous and still laughing.

Tony shifted uncomfortably.  “Well, maybe not willingly…”

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, glancing between Tony and Clint, then looking at Steve, who seemed as amused as he was.

“She’s going to kill you if she finds out,” Steve told their host.

“And that’s not an idle threat, from ‘Tasha,” Clint warned, shaking his head in mock despair.

“Look, I just set it up.  I didn’t activate it yet!  She can edit it first.  Pepper helped!”

The three of them looked at each other for confirmation.  “That’s good,” Clint said at last.

“Yeah, Nat and Pepper are friends,” Steve added.

Tony frowned at them.  “And I’m not friends with her?”

“Are you?” Clint asked politely.

Wrinkling his nose, Tony shrugged.  “I’m not sure how I could tell…”

“What are you guys talking about?” Natasha’s voice broke in suddenly, and they all whirled around to find her standing in the doorway.  She put her hands on her hips and quirked an eyebrow at their reaction.

“Nothing,” Tony insisted, waving a hand and causing the monitor to go black.

She smirked.  “Subtle, Stark.  You’ve got Rogers over there.  You know he can’t hide anything,” she added with a wink.

“Tony was just explaining to us some more modern methods for dating,” Bucky offered, drawing her attention.  Her eyes narrowed a little at the statement and she turned to look at Steve.

“Things aren’t working out with Sharon?”

Steve shifted his weight, looking like he wanted to spill the beans.  “No, it’s fine with her, I just…”

“We were trying to get Barnes here a date,” Clint added.

“Ladies love a man in uniform,” Tony chimed in, and Bucky shot him a glare.  ‘They do,’ Tony mouthed defensively in response, quickly changing his expression to a smile when Natasha looked at him again.

“That’s true,” she offered slowly, then walked over to the console and turned the monitor back on.  “What is this?”  Her words were measured and seemed calm, but Bucky could tell by her tense muscles that she was not.  Whether she was hiding anger or amusement was impossible to tell, though.

“Stark did it,” Clint said immediately, grinning when Tony glared at him.

Natasha scrolled down the page, frowning in concentration.  “Well, it’s fairly accurate,” she offered at the end, and everyone relaxed a bit.  Until she straightened and fixed Tony with a stony glare.  “You think I can’t find my own dates?”

“I was just trying to help!”

“What other profiles have you made, Stark?”

He cleared his throat, looking at them guiltily, but didn’t answer.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff?”

“Who else has Tony been impersonating on this site?”

The AI paused a moment, perhaps giving Tony time to order him not to speak.  “Yourself and Dr. Banner, ma’am.”

“I knew Bruce would be too uncomfortable with doing it himself, but what with what happened with Betty, I thought he could get back out there,” Tony said quietly.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him.  “Fine, why me?”

“I was just wondering if, you know, the two of you made a good match,” he muttered and looked ready to run.

To everyone’s relief, she just laughed.  “Well, let me know what it says,” she told him, clearly still amused, and left the room.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Clint asked.

Tony shuddered and shook his head.  "I'm just glad to be alive," he replied.

"Nat's not all that scary," Steve said protectively, and Bucky smiled at the tone.

"Yeah, sure," Tony grumbled as he headed toward his lab.  The rest of them exchanged a look, and Clint shrugged.

"Well, let's go get cleaned up, Buck," Steve suggested, and they left Clint alone with the online dating service.


	4. Share Lab Space

The arrow sunk into the target, hitting the bulls-eye.  As the last four had.  “You may be a better shot than me,” Bucky acquiesced, looking at his own target.

Clint smiled.  “I wouldn’t say that,” he said cheerfully.  “Just with arrows.”

“Yeah, I guess HYDRA didn’t think training me with a bow was worth their time for some reason,” he replied, and Clint laughed.

“What, they didn’t think medieval technology would pay off for you?  Short-sighted, man.”

“It doesn’t seem like them,” Bucky agreed, unstringing his bow after watching Clint do the same.  They gathered their spent arrows and Clint inspected them to see if any needed repairs before reuse.  “I’ve heard you improved on the original idea,” he said while he watched Clint work.

The brought a smile to the archer’s face.  “Well, most guys don’t go down right away just because they’ve got an arrow in ‘em.  Makes some of them pretty angry, in fact.  Not that guns are necessarily any different, but people sure get pissed when they’ve got an arrow in their chest.  If it didn’t kill them, of course.”

It was more than Bucky had heard the man say all at once, and was a little relieved – he hadn’t been sure where he stood with the spy.  Especially what with his connection to Natasha.  “What kinds of things have you made?”

Clint thoughtfully looked up at the distant ceiling, possibly counting.  “Explosives of varying blast radii, nets, electrified and otherwise, Tasers, grappling hooks.”  He shrugged, returning to his task.  “Nothing too clever,” he added.

Bucky wasn’t sure what that meant.  Certainly creating a device that would not affect how he aimed the projectile to which it was attached would be tricky and require some cleverness.  “How do you make sure to keep it weighted correctly?”

Finished, Clint tucked the unharmed arrows into his quiver and kept four that were slightly bent in his hand as he swung the quiver over his shoulder.  “Practice, mostly,” he answered, turning to leave the range.

Uncertainly, Bucky leaned forward on his toes and glanced around the room as if looking for clues.  They were alone in the large, echoing space; it smelled faintly of vinyl from the mats lining the walls to deafen the noise.  It was a shooting range, too; archery was not a loud hobby.  He hadn’t expected to be invited to target practice today, since the two of them rarely spoke outside of missions.  Now he was wary of overstepping his welcome.

“You want to see how it’s done?” Clint called over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Bucky replied, striding quickly to catch up, and hoping his eagerness wasn’t too obvious.

Clint left his quiver in one of the lockers near the door and headed toward the elevator.  They rode it in silence up to one of the labs.  Bucky was somewhat apprehensive to find that it was Tony’s lab.  One of them, anyway; not one of the open labs for anyone to use, and not Bruce’s, either.  He wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“Stark’s always got the best tech,” Clint explained as he stepped out of the elevator.  “It’s a good place to get ideas.”

Tony was an accommodating host, but Bucky didn’t think he’d be too happy to share his lab.  Still, he was new here and Clint surely knew what he was doing.  “Are you going to put repulsor beams on your arrows?” he asked instead.

With a snort, Clint headed toward a mostly empty table, setting down the arrows and pushing back the mechanical detritus that littered most surfaces.  “Tried it, almost singed off my eyebrows,” he replied.

Picturing that, Bucky smiled.  “Alright, so, what’s the plan?”

Clint turned around to face him, leaning against the table.  “We’re looking for Dendrotoxin.  It’ll be in a vial, kinda blue and glowy.”

“Alright.” 

They split up to search.  The lab was messy, but Bucky could tell there was a method to Tony’s madness.  Things were grouped in somewhat logical locations, and he suspected that the genius had no trouble finding whatever he wanted.  It did make it more difficult for them, though, since they didn’t know Tony’s thought process.  After about twenty minutes of searching through things that Bucky was mostly unable to identify, he found a little tray with four vials rolling around on it.  The color reminded him of ice, and he shivered a little.

“This it?” he asked, lifting the tray carefully.

A grin spread on Clint’s face, and he hopped over the nearest table to get a closer look.  “Good job, Barnes,” the archer told him, taking the tray away.

He followed Clint back to the table with the arrows and watched in silence as he pulled a couple small metal pieces out of his pocket.  They were all the same size, and he guessed that they were used to attach to his arrows while in the quiver.

“What does it do?” he asked, motioning toward the liquid.

Glancing at him briefly, Clint opened one of the vials.  “They call it an icer.  Brings down folks without killing ‘em.  Pretty useful, in our line of work.  You should see about getting some bullets made of the stuff.”

He frowned a little, wondering who he would ask about such a thing.  It did sound like a good idea.  “And it’ll work on your arrows?”

“Who knows?  Worth a try,” Clint replied.  He poured the dendrotoxin into two of the metal pieces, then looked around.  “Will you look at that,” he said suddenly, putting his work down and walking to the next table over.

There was a 4” by 8” square with eighteen holes drilled into it.  Only half of them were full, with what looked like tiny missiles.  Bucky leaned forward to get a good look, deciding that they were, in fact, missiles, though he’d never seen any so small before.  Not that his handlers had generally considered small weaponry worth his time.  He thought he remembered seeing Tony use them while in his suit.  They were heat-seeking and very effective.

“You don’t think Stark’ll mind if I borrow these, do you?” Clint asked, picking one up and turning it over to inspect it.

Bucky didn’t know about that, but he would like to see them in action, especially on an arrow.  “Depends on how many you borrow,” he replied.

Clint snorted and picked up another one.  “Just two.  He probably won’t even miss them.  If they work, I’ll ask him for more.”  He turned back and set about attaching one to each of the remaining damaged arrows.  For testing, Bucky supposed.

“Hey, Kung Jin, Jackson Briggs.  More of what, dare I ask?” Tony’s voice interrupted them.

They both turned around quickly, probably guiltily.

“These little missiles,” Clint replied calmly.

Tony walked over and looked at the assembled arrows, raising an eyebrow.  “What do you want them to do?”

“Shock and Awe.  Like the shrapnel ones I’ve already got.  I want to put several of these in an arrowhead that will split at the height of the arc and go after multiple targets,” Clint explained, gesturing while he did so.

Nodding along, Tony moved the pieces around thoughtfully.  “Sure, let’s see what we can do.”  He glanced up at Bucky questioningly.  “You gonna let me look at that arm of yours?”

“Barnes wants some icer bullets,” Clint said.

Tony looked between the two of them.  “Yeah, that’s all.  My arm’s fine,” Bucky clarified.

“Alright,” Tony replied a little wistfully, then pulled out a box and handed it to Bucky.  “Let me know when you run low.”

“Thanks,” he replied, and watched them work for a few moments.  “You think you could put an EMP in it?”

“You planning on knocking out our wifi?” Tony asked, but turned to get a better look.

“Seems useful,” he replied, and Tony nodded before setting to work.


	5. Modern Kitchens

“As you can see, it has all the bells and whistles,” Tony is saying proudly.

Bucky looks over at the refrigerator and isn’t sure what kinds of additions they could have made to it.  If it keeps food from spoiling, that’s good enough for him.  Tony is giving him a tour of the Tower while Steve is gone, and it’s the first time he’s left his floor since he arrived here.  It’s a big place, and it’s a struggle to consider that all of it belongs to one person.  Even if a half dozen or so of them live there.  He could easily go days without seeing anyone, he thinks.

“You can use this screen here, and it takes inventory of what we have and offers recipes for what you can make from it,” Tony explains, pressing a few buttons to demonstrate.

Nodding slowly, Bucky is less than impressed.  Noticing this, Tony cocks his head at him.

“Not what you were expecting?”

“You have flying cars, but only a few of them.  You have tiny computers that everyone carries around but you don’t put them to any useful purpose.  Your kitchen appliances can tell you all kinds of information, but won’t make your food for you.  I’m just a little disappointed in how the future is turning out to be,” Bucky tells him with a shrug.

Unsurprisingly, Tony bristles a little at the analysis.  “Hey, is that what you want?  A machine that will make you dinner?”

“It would be a nice start.”

Snorting, Tony surveys the room thoughtfully.  “What do you want for dinner?”

Bucky considers the possibilities.  “Steak.  Mashed potatoes.  Biscuits.”

“That’s a lot of carbs.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.  Let’s see what we can do.”  Tony waves him further into the kitchen and points at appliances.  “Breadmaker.”

“Not for biscuits.”

“Grill.”

Bucky frowns at the small red device and shrugs.  It doesn’t look like any grill he’s ever seen, but what does he know?  “Sure.”

“I suppose you want home-made mashed potatoes,” Tony says, sounding disappointed.

“What other kind is there?” Bucky replies.  Tony takes it as a rhetorical question and just nods, but Bucky hasn’t heard of any other kind.  They’re at home, aren’t they?  Won’t anything they make be home-made?

“Well, let’s see how well-stocked we are.”  Tony turns to the refrigerator and reads its inventory, then turns to the pantry.

“You don’t have, like, a food replicator?  Like in that new show Star Trek?” Bucky asks.

Tony snorts back a laugh.  “I’m afraid the innovative minds from that show are a few years ahead of us yet,” he says sardonically.  “You like scifi?  Science fiction,” he clarifies when Bucky looks confused.

“Oh, that.  Yeah, I guess so.  Kinda seems like less fiction than it used to,” he adds thoughtfully.

Smiling, Tony shakes his head.  “True.  Okay, you want to be on biscuit or steak duty?”

“What about the potatoes?”

“This little red box claims to be able to make decent mashed potatoes by itself; all we have to do is toss them in there,” Tony explains a little proudly.

Bucky eyes the machine dubiously.  “Do we need to peel them first?”

“Nope,” Tony replies, tossing a few potatoes in it and shutting the lid.

Steak and biscuits will make a fine meal anyway, Bucky resolves, and sets about making the biscuits.  He thinks Tony should be able to handle searing a piece of meat, and hasn’t heard anything good about his culinary exploits.  Didn’t Pepper tell him a story about some burned and undercooked scrambled eggs?  He isn’t sure; the last couple weeks of being holed up in Steve’s floor are a little fuzzy about what really happened.

“How do you want your steak?” Tony asks, flipping over the sirloins.

“Medium rare,” he replies, putting the biscuits in the oven.  He goes over to look at the mashed potato box and clears his throat.  “Should it be doing that?”

Closing the grill again, Tony walks over to check.  “I doubt it.  I haven’t ever used it, but…  Probably not supposed to move like that.”

Without any further warning, the machine starts vibrating more widely, the top flying open, and potato bits flinging everywhere.  Bucky drops automatically and finds cover under the nearby table.  He looks around for Tony and finds him similarly hidden, an expression of annoyance on his face.

Footsteps can be heard approaching, despite the noise, and Bucky sees a man about Tony’s age, wearing glasses and a purple shirt.  Though there are gray streaks in his hair, Bucky feels something intimidating about him.  The man walks over and calmly presses a button on the machine.  It settles down and he closes the lid, a smile crossing his lips when he sees Tony.  Then he opens the refrigerator and pulls out an apple.  Taking a bite of it casually, he leaves the room as nonchalantly as he entered it.

“Who was that?” Bucky breathes, getting to his feet.

“Bruce Banner.  Doctor of Nuclear Physics and Mashed Potato Extraordinaire, apparently,” Tony grumbles, dusting himself off.

Licking his lips, Bucky looks after the doctor, some knowledge sliding into place as he realizes who he is.  “Should we…  Should we invite him to dinner?” he asks.

Tony laughs at that.  “I’m sure he’ll stop by if he’s hungry.”  Then he clears his throat and looks at Bucky intently.  “We don’t need to tell this story to anyone, do we?”

“Um, no,” Bucky answers uncertainly.

“Good.  Can’t have people upstaging me with technical skills in my own home,” he explains.

“Of course,” Bucky agrees with a smile, wondering if everyone in the Tower has their own niche.  And what his would be.

The rest of the meal gets made without a fuss, and they are both quite pleased (and surprised) to find that the mashed potatoes that are not on the walls seem pretty good.  Steve gets back just after Bucky pulls the biscuits out of the oven, and he thinks his friend always had that kind of timing when he was little, too.

“How was your day?” Steve asks gently, softly enough that Tony likely can’t hear.  Or can at least choose to ignore their conversation.

He glances over at their host, who gives him a look, and he smiles at Steve.  “Good.  Tony gave me a tour and we made dinner,” he says.

Steve turns his gaze toward Tony as well, raising an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment right away.  “Sounds like fun.  I’m starving,” he adds.

“I’m not sure we have enough to feed a super soldier,” Tony replies with a frown.

“Should we go get some shawarma instead?” Steve suggests, and Tony smiles at some shared reference.

“Hey, I’m just worried about your friend, here.”  He turns to face Bucky and puts a hand on his shoulder.  “Maybe if you ate more comfort food, you wouldn’t have to go around shooting people,” he says seriously.

Bucky grins.  “Sounds like a plan to me.”


	6. Keeping His Temper

Bucky is not hard to pick out in a crowd.  Not because of his arm (he has the sense to cover that up, of course), but because he struggles to act like the people around him.  To relax.  To make it seem like he’s just another tourist or shopper or pedestrian.  Something about him is always tense, ready for an attack.  This is good for his line of work, but he’s not always working.  If he is part of a stealth mission, he must be unseen completely or he’ll blow their covers.  He’s good at disappearing, being a ghost, but it’s easier to just leave him at home most of the time.

He doesn’t like being left at home.  He’d always prefer to have something to do with himself, and staying in the Tower isn’t quite what he wants in that department.  The training rooms are useful, but he has his daily regimen and extra time on his hands will not be spent in those places.  At least, very little of it.  The labs are interesting and he likes to watch them in use, but doesn’t use them himself.  So it’s pretty boring for him to be left here, while everyone else is out saving the world.

Somewhat fortunately, he is not the only one left behind.  In fact, more often than not, Bruce elects not to get involved.  He’s been living in the Tower for longer than anyone (well, perhaps just the same amount as Tony and Pepper) and seems very comfortable there.  So, when Bucky is stuck at home, he usually goes to talk to Bruce.

“Hey, Buck,” Bruce says kindly as Bucky steps out of the elevator.

“Hello,” Bucky replies, never quite sure of his welcome.  But today Bruce smiles at him before continuing whatever experiment he is doing.

There are many things with which Bucky is familiar, and he was always very interested in scientific advancements.  Still, he has somewhat given up on asking Bruce what he is doing with his lab and chemicals and instruments.  Perhaps he has missed too much, or perhaps it’s just because he doesn’t have a doctorate in anything (or a masters, or a bachelors, for that matter), but he has no idea what the man is talking about after a couple of sentences in.  So he contents himself with just watching and trying to guess what amazing changes modern life will have if Bruce is successful.

“Under cover again?” Bruce asks lightly as he pours something from one vial to another, very carefully.

“Well, Nat and Clint took Steve as backup on one of their missions.  Tony’s actually asleep for once, and Thor’s off-world,” Bucky tells him, realizing a moment too late that it sounds like he only visits Bruce when he has no other options.

Bruce gives him a smile as though reading his mind, and then returns to his work.  “Glad to hear Tony’s getting some rest.  He should sleep more.”

Bucky shrugs.  He can understand why Stark would want to refrain from falling unconscious until he was tired enough to avoid dreaming.  It’s tempting.  “I guess,” he replies belatedly.

“It’s as important to give your mind time to work through everything and heal yourself as it is for your body,” Bruce tells him.  “Or so I hear.  It’s not my field,” he adds with a wink.

Smiling hesitantly, Bucky pulls himself onto a stool nearby to get a better look at what’s happening.  Given Bruce’s lack of safety gear (not that he really needs it), he can assume it’s not too dangerous to be close by.  “I’m sure you know more about than the rest of us,” he offers.

“Why would you say that, Bucky?” Bruce asks.

After considering how far it would be wise to go, he shrugs again.  “Seems like you’ve got more cause to know about your emotions, is all.”

Bruce nods seriously at that, then looks up at him piercingly.  “We all have our demons,” he replies.

Blinking, Bucky nods.  “I suppose.”

“It’s important to deal with them, not let them fester.”

“Is it?”

Biting his lip, Bruce sets down his instruments and leans back a little to look at the soldier more studiously.  “Cap says your memories come back when you sleep.  I can see that being unpleasant.  But you’ll get more rest if you control it better.”

Bucky looks away, thinking he should have just stayed upstairs and done a crossword or something.  “Sure,” he replies noncommittally.

“And if you had more rest, you wouldn’t be on edge all day.  And then you’d be fit for undercover missions,” Bruce explains, comforting smile evident in his tone.

“Oh, I see.  You’re just trying to get rid of me,” Bucky says with a forced grin.

Bruce lets the mood change.  “Well, yeah.  Can’t have a skilled assassin coming down here and getting underfoot,” he jokes.

“I’ll try to stay out of the way,” Bucky promises, surveying the room with a smile.

“Good, because some other people aren’t quite so polite about it.  I remember one time Tony came by, before the rest of you moved in, and accosted me for a couple hours to tell me about… something.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I dozed off.  About when he was in Sweden, I think.  Or Switzerland.  It was just some party story from his heyday in the late nineties.”

Bucky is struck by the thought of what he was doing in the nineties, and frowns.  He doesn’t remember much, even now, but enough so that it takes him a few moments to realize Bruce is calling his name.

“Earth to Bucky,” Bruce finally says, sounding exasperated.

“Sorry, what?” Bucky asks, shaking his head to clear it.

“Did you and Steve get up to a lot of partying before you shipped out?” Bruce changes the subject abruptly.

After a moment of thought, Bucky shrugs.  “Not sure what you would consider partying.  We went out dancing on my last night, but Steve abandoned me to go try to get into the Army again.”

Bruce blinks slowly, then something clicks and he laughs.  “I forgot our Captain wasn’t always so… impressive.  How many times did he try?”

“I don’t know, like half a dozen.  Kept lying on ‘em about where he was from, in hopes that someplace would be desperate enough to take him.”

“I see.  He was eventually successful, though?”

“Sort of.  Some doctor decided to let him in because he thought he’d be a prime candidate for the super soldier serum.  I don’t expect he would have seen front lines otherwise.”

Bruce nods his understanding.  “You remember a lot from back then?”

Sighing through his nose, Bucky toys with some of the laboratory equipment in front of him.  “Yeah, I guess being around Steve helps remind me of stuff,” he explains haltingly.

Have returned to his experiment, Bruce nods again.  “Not much from after that?”

“Too much,” Bucky replies shortly.

“Do you think it will all come back?” Bruce asks quietly.

Standing up abruptly, Bucky begins to pace.  “You saw the scans of my brain.  What do you think?”

“I think there are too many variables to be able to tell, since we don’t know everything they did to you.  And, frankly, it doesn’t seem like you should be able to access any of your memories,” Bruce adds.

That stops Bucky in his tracks.  “I don’t want to,” he mutters.

Bruce puts his tools down and walks over to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder (the right one, of course; few people come near his left).  “Maybe not, but it will help.  Then you’ll be able to process the strong emotions attached to them instead of being confused and afraid of them.”

“I’m not afraid,” he snaps, but they both know he’s lying.

“Give it a try, my friend.  It worked for me.”

Bucky shrugs off his hand and leaves the lab, upset but aware that the doctor is right.  He’ll have to give it a try, but not today.


	7. Non-Lethal Competition, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's enjoyed this so far! Who's ready for a potential cap 3 footage leak tonight? Not this girl!

 “Sounds dangerous,” Steve says doubtfully.

“Says the guy who gets shot at by real bullets on a regular basis,” Natasha replies with a smirk.

Tony points at her eloquently.  “Come on, Cap, it’s fun!  We’ll just be downstairs, no innocent passerby to make things complicated.  Perfectly safe.”

Steve looks over at Bucky and raises an eyebrow questioningly.  “It could be a good way to spend the afternoon,” Bucky suggests, secretly pleased with the idea.

Considering this, Steve nods.  “Alright.  What gear do we need?”

“Cap wants to be one of those hardcore guys who goes out every weekend,” Clint explains, deadpan.

Tony clears his throat.  “I think we should try to keep the playing field level and all wear the same gear.”  He pauses, glancing at Bucky.  “Well, as much as possible,” he amends cryptically.

“Let’s get a move on, boys,” Natasha says, hopping off of the counter on which she was sitting and heading for the elevator.  The others follow suit, and Bucky waits to follow Steve, which puts them at the rear.

“Have you done this before?” Bucky whispers to his friend.

Steve shrugs.  “I don’t think so.  But I’m sure no one will mind if you sit it out.  Or if we leave early,” he adds, glancing over with a concerned expression on his face.

Biting back a sigh, Bucky nods.  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he replies resolutely, and Steve smiles.

They arrive at the elevator and cut their conversation short in order to pile in.  It’s a tight fit, but they manage.

“The thunder god isn’t here?” Tony asks over the group.

If he were, they would not all be able to fit.  “He’s needed at home,” Steve explains.

“Okay, what about –” Tony begins before Natasha cuts him off.

“I’m sure Bruce is not interested in this kind of game,” she says smoothly.

Tony nods, smiling self-effacingly.  “Alright.  Is the other birdman in town?  I’m going to give Rhodey a call,” he adds with a grin.

“Sam’s upstairs, yeah,” Clint reports.

“JARVIS, tell Wilson and Rhodey to get themselves to the 5th floor for paintball in the next half an hour,” Tony says.

“Sir, Col. Rhodes may require more time than that,” the AI responds, politeness hiding some degree of condescension.

With a snort, Tony steps out of the elevator as it comes to a stop.  “Just tell him to hurry,” he replies.

The floor on which they have stopped is the largest Bucky has seen – which doesn’t make sense, so it must just be the most open.  It’s all one room, though littered with fake hills, trees, and the occasional lean-to.  Bucky stops in his tracks to stare, thrown by the existence of such a place.  Why would anyone go to all the trouble to make this when there are surely places they could go outside that are just the same?  Or perhaps there aren’t any more.  He hasn’t been to Central Park in, you know, close to a century.

“So, how do we do this?” Natasha asks, possibly as surprised by the existence of such a room as Bucky is.

“What you guys think, shirts vs. skins?” Tony answers with a smirk.

Clint snorts.  “Not a good plan,” he mutters.  “I don’t want to increase the number of welts I’m going to walk away with.”

Bucky glances sharply at Steve, who sets his jaw.  “Welts?” Steve questions.

Moving closer, Tony throws his arm around Steve’s shoulders.  “Don’t worry, Cap.  It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

The elevator opens behind them, and Sam steps out, looking perplexed.  “Hey, guys.   What’s the plan?”

“Paintball.  You, Bucky, Barton, Nat versus Cap, me, and Rhodey,” Tony tells him.

It’s immediately apparent that the teams were not chosen as well as those involved would have preferred, and Bucky moves a little closer to Steve in the noise, frowning.  No one seems particularly angry, but he did not expect the reaction.

“Alright, alright!” Tony yells, waving his hands.  “Okay, fine, I was just trying to make it even.  Didn’t want the guy with super-strength to have an unfair advantage.”

“It’s a shooting game, Stark.  You think we should put Clint and James on the same team?” Natasha asks sardonically.

There is a murmur of agreement, and Tony nods slowly.  “Fine, how about Barton, Nat, and Cap versus me, Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky?  Can’t let the two super soldiers be on the same team,” Tony explains, patting Bucky’s shoulder.

Though somewhat begrudging, the crowd agrees with the division this time.  Tony shows them where the gear is, and they split up to get ready.  Bucky supposes the team makes sense, since he knows Clint, Natalia, and Steve have often worked together, while he and Sam have been partners and Tony and Rhodey have been also.  So it should work pretty well, he thinks.  Whatever ‘it’ is…  The gear is pretty standard combat stuff, camouflaged to match the room environment.

Once everyone is ready (Rhodey having arrived while they got dressed), they all stand in the circle in the center of the room.  “Okay, capture the flag rules.  Everyone has their own weapon, red or blue paint.  No face shots, no fraternization with the other team.  Once you’re hit, you’re out.  The winning team is whoever gets the other team’s flag without getting paint on them.  Any questions?”  He pauses, surveying them.  “Good, then let’s go!”

Immediately, they turn and run toward their respective flags to determine a strategy.  Once of the four of them are in place, Bucky is not surprised that Tony takes the leadership role.  “Okay, Romanoff and Barton are both spies, so I’m sure they’ll be trying to sneak over here.  Cap will probably be guarding, and it’ll be tough to get passed him.  So, I think our own spy can stay here and stay hidden, taking out anyone who gets close.  And the rest of us will go take on Cap,” Tony says.

Rhodey has a bemused expression, but then nods.  “And what if they’ve switched?”

With a shrug, Tony checks his ammo levels as if it’s not the same as everyone else’s.  “Then Bucky can take on Cap and the three of us should be able to match the super spies.”

“You okay with that idea, Buck?” Sam asks.

Bucky smiles.  “I’ll take good care of it,” he says, nodding toward the flag.

The others smile in return or give him a high-five before disappearing through the trees.  He moves back to disappear as well, considering all the possibilities of how the enemy might approach.  This particular game is unfamiliar, but it’s not unlike many of his missions, both during and after the war.  He waits patiently, motionless, silent.  Unlike most of the other forms of entertainment the Avengers have included him in, he’s pretty sure he’ll be good at this one.

Eventually, he hears footsteps approaching carefully.  He tightens his grip on his weapon, and holds his breath.  Natasha steps into his line of sight and he takes the shot.  She hisses as the paintball hits her, and frowns at the red mark on her shirt.  “Nice, James,” she says, and turns away.  He doesn’t answer, not certain if she is alone or not.

It’s a while before he hears anything else.  Then it’s running feet.

“I got it!” Tony shouts excitedly.  Right before blue paint blooms on his back and he drops with a grunt.  Then looks at the flag wistfully as he puts it down and walks away slowly.  Bucky moves silently toward the flag, uncertainly.  Pausing in the clearing, he can see the glint of metal hidden in the tree across the way.  It must be Clint, he thinks.  And settles down to wait him out.

It becomes apparent that it’s only the two of them left, and the others shout encouragement and taunts toward them, offering advice and otherwise.  Bucky slips back a little ways so he can keep an eye on both flags before settling in to wait.  It takes a long time.  The others lose patience and he can hear them chatting.  Some of them may even have left the floor.  He wonders if he should bring an end to this.

Finally, the metal glint shifts and Bucky aims right below the spot and takes the shot.  From the colorful language that results, he knows he was successful.  He strolls over to the flag and picks it up.  “We win,” he says quietly.


	8. Keep A Secret

Bucky spends most of his time on Steve’s floor.  He doesn’t often leave, which is fine.  It’s a comfortable place, with more state-of-the-art accommodations than he could ever use.  Steve, and Stark’s kid, have explained these to him several times.  He smiles and nods and tries to look interested, but it’s a struggle to keep focused on anything besides the roiling chaos in his brain for very long (much as he would like to).

As weeks pass, he gets a better handle on what’s going on in his head, and feels a little more comfortable exploring the floor.  He won’t leave it on his own, but he doesn’t just stay holed up in his room.  Sometimes Steve or someone else is there to keep an eye on him, but not always.  Perhaps they are trusting him more to be on his own, which is nice.  Not that he’s ever hurt any of them, or himself.  They took their time introducing (or reintroducing) the other residents of the Tower so he had time to get used to them.  He thinks he’s met everyone by this point.  They all seem nice enough.

The living room is large, probably larger than the apartment he and Steve used to live in before the war.  It contains two couches and four easy chairs, which seems like more seating than they could ever need.  Especially considering there is a different floor for communal activities.  Or so he’s heard – he hasn’t seen it.  There is a television that takes up most of the wall.  They didn’t have television before – before all of this, but he’s familiar enough with screens that display information.

Watching television is a new kind of hobby, and he gives it a try.  It’s hard to know how much attention he is supposed to dedicate to it, as much of his noting of the details does not pay off in any significant fashion.  Also, there is too vast an array of programs for him to be able to follow them with regularity.  Some are fictional, while some are reality or documentary, and he isn’t sure what he prefers.

Movies are also available, which at first delights him.  He remembers going to the pictures with Steve, or his sister, or a lady friend, before the war.  These are easier to follow than the television programs, since they are clearly designated as part of a series or, more often, standalone films.  Some he doesn’t like at all, and he wonders if they are popular for some reason he cannot understand.  Others he likes, and he’s particularly pleased to find a channel that shows old movies he vaguely recalls.  It’s nice to see them again.

After exploring that piece of technology over a few days, he tries the sound system.  At first, he discovers that it can make the movie-watching experience much more exciting, and is distracted by that for a while.  Then he finds some of Steve’s vinyls and is pleased to hear music that he hasn’t for quite a few years.  The names are unfamiliar, tugging at something in the back of his mind, but nothing he can recall distinctly.  He closes his eyes and lets the hints of memories connected to the music wash over him.

 

Sitting on the railing, watching the grown-ups dance, kicking his legs impatiently.

 

Dragging Steve inside to meet his date.

 

Proud in his uniform, starched and pressed, his arm around the waist of a girl.

 

Though he adjusts quickly to some parts of his new life, he enjoys returning to Steve’s stereo system to remember his old one sometimes.  After the battles, body sore and aching, it’s pleasant to be brought back to another time, before he had the weight of two different kinds of wars on his conscious.

One day, though, it gets him in trouble.  He hasn’t even finished changing out of his gear, but he starts up the music anyway, needing it after a mission like today’s.  Closing his eyes, he retraces the long-forgotten steps, dancing with an imaginary partner.  Until the music suddenly changes and then turns off, and he whirls around.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls under his breath upon realizing he has an audience.  A large audience.

Steve looks considerably embarrassed, while the rest are trying very hard to hide their amusement, though about half are polite enough to also seem embarrassed.

Bucky sets his jaw and musters his most intimidating glare.  “If any of you breathe a word of this, I will end you,” he swears solemnly.

Eyes go wide and he must be effective as he surveys them all slowly.  Then he turns and stalks toward his room.

“Whatever you say, Dancing Queen,” Tony says, just loud enough for him to hear.  And then he has no choice but to chase after the billionaire genius, much to everyone else’s delight.

“Bet you wish you hadn’t taken your suit off now, huh,” Clint suggests, confident on his perch in the corner.

Tony retaliates by knocking the archer off-balance as he runs by, Bucky hot on his heels.  “It was just a joke!”

“You know how Russians are with jokes,” Natasha says, shaking her head sadly, and putting out a foot to trip Tony.  He recovers, before Bucky can catch up, but the latter grins at her nonetheless.

“I did not realize Midgardians were in the habit of behaving like children,” Thor interjects, stepping hastily out of the way, but unable to hide his laughter.

“Hey!” Tony begins, but has to jump over the couch before he can finish his thought.  “JARVIS!  A little help!”

“With what, sir?” the AI asks innocently, and Tony swears at it.

“Cap, a little help?!”

Steve sighs loudly, and grabs Bucky’s shoulder, swinging him around once to use up his momentum.  “Now, Bucky, we’ve talked about planning ahead in the field,” he begins in a lecturing tone, which results in peals of laughter from everyone except Bucky and Tony.  Bucky smiles slowly.  “What are you going to do with him when you catch him?”

Bucky snorts.  “Like you ever planned that.”

“What, did you take all my stupid with you after all?”

“Looks that way.”

A smile starts to break through Steve’s stern expression, but he manages to hide it.  “Well, I think you’re going to want to give it back,” he says, then nods pointedly.

Tony has taken advantage of Steve’s intervention to escape, and Bucky groans loudly, muttering curses under his breath.

“If any of you mention this, I will kill all of you in your sleep,” Bucky says darkly when they laugh.  It’s not effective this time; they just laugh harder.  He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, and goes to his room, grumbling about respecting people’s privacy the whole way.


	9. Modern Fashion

 “This is unacceptable,” Natasha said, her hands on her hips.  She was standing next to Steve’s bed, on which all of the super soldier’s clothes were laid out.

Steve sighed heavily and Bucky hid a smile, both of them sitting against the wall, watching her.  “What’s the problem, Nat?”

She waved her arms eloquently at the pile.  “Your choices leave something to be desired, Steve.  There’s no way I’m letting you take Sharon out in any of this.”

Snorting, Steve got to his feet, and glanced down at Bucky.  “I appreciate the input, but I’ve taken her out before,” he said defensively.

A smirk spread across Natasha’s face and she shook her head.  “I’m as delighted as anyone that you’re willing to go on dates, but I find it… concerning to consider what you think is appropriate for them.”

“What do you think, Buck?” Steve asked, looking for an out.

“You never could dress yourself,” Bucky replied.  Natasha grinned in victory and Steve looked betrayed.

Glaring at both of them, Steve folded his arms over his chest.  “I do just fine on my own.”

“Not in everything,” Bucky told him.

“Alright, what do you two geniuses suggest?” Steve grumbled in defeat.

Natasha smiled again.  “We should go shopping,” she said in a tone that forbade argument.  It didn’t stop Steve from trying.

“Not all that fond of how the last time we went to the mall,” he told her and she gave him a look.  “Fine, let’s go.”

“Right now?” Bucky asked, a little surprised.

Steve headed for the door, grabbing a jacket from the bed on the way.  At his choice of covering, Natasha grimaced, then winked at Bucky.  “Seems like the only way to keep certain nosy people off my back,” Steve called over his shoulder.

Getting to his feet fluidly, Bucky followed the two of them out of the room and down the hall to the elevator.  Natasha hummed the whole way, and Steve glowered.  Bucky watched them silently, unused to seeing Natasha in such a good mood and Steve in such a bad one.  It made him feel unsafe.

The doors opened on the ground floor, and Thor was standing just outside.  He looked up in surprise when he realized the elevator was occupied, then he smiled.  “Off on a mission?” he asked.

“No,” Steve said at the same time that Natasha said, “Yes.”

Thor looked at Bucky, who shrugged.  “I see,” he said slowly.

“Natalia thinks Steve needs some new clothes, so we are going shopping, apparently.  Want to come?” Bucky suggested.

Smile returning, Thor nodded.  “It sounds like a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.  I haven’t been to a Midgardian clothing store in a few months.”

“Me neither,” Bucky agreed after a pause in which the other two didn’t speak.  Both had at least smiled in greeting at their teammate, but now were silent.  Except for Natasha’s humming.

They walked out of the building and caught a taxi on the curb.  Fitting two super soldiers and a god into it was an issue, but they managed.  Natasha told the driver where to go, and Bucky and Thor made small talk on the ride.  The Asgardian had been off-world for a few weeks, then visiting Jane for a week, so there was much on which to catch up.  It helped cover the uncomfortable silence between Natasha and Steve.

Finally, the taxi came to a stop and the four of them extricated themselves from the tight quarters.  The store was not one Bucky recognized, though the presence of mannequins in the windows, presumably wearing the latest fashions, gave him sufficient information.  “What’s the plan?” he asked as they walked in.  It was cool and smelled nice, but was very quiet.  Not many patrons filled the aisles, which put him a little on edge.

“What did people do for fun back in the dark ages?” Natasha teased, then looked at Thor with the slightest expression of chagrin (more than Bucky had ever seen on her face, though).

“Wasn’t invited,” Steve replied shortly.

“We went out dancing, mostly.  And you were invited.  I invited you,” Bucky corrected him in a mock-hurt tone, causing Steve to smile.

“Well, today, people go out clubbing.  And they certainly don’t wear khakis and a plaid button-down to do it in,” Natasha said after a pause to see if Steve would respond.

Thor looked faintly surprised.  “Clubbing what?” he asked.

“Going to clubs.  Dance clubs,” she added when the three of them didn’t look any more enlightened.

“I see.  I believe Jane’s friend Darcy has talked of them to me,” Thor offered, and Natasha smiled at him.

“What you need are skinny jeans.  Not too skinny; you’re not emo or in your twenties,” she began, then stopped, looking at them sharply.  “Not your early twenties, anyway.  Dark colored, preferably grey or blue.  Slacks are also acceptable, same color scheme.  Don’t wear black; everything will be black in the club.  Button-downs are fine, but should be a solid color.  Wear a blazer or a vest over it, but it doesn’t have to match the pants.  Absolutely no sunglasses, but a nice watch is fine.”  As she was talking, she led them around the store and pointed out suitable attire.  It was more than a little overwhelming, and they exchanged glances several times.  Thor seemed by far the most comfortable with the whole idea.

“Okay,” Steve said slowly when she finished.  “But you really think Sharon would want to go to a dance club?” he asked quietly.

With a smile, Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know her that well, but I think you should be prepared.  And the outfits will be good for going out to a casual dinner, too,” she assured him.

Some more guidance was required for Steve and Bucky, but Thor was content to start looking right away.  Natasha stuck around until they were a little more comfortable, then went to find her own choices in the women’s section.  It was certainly intimidating to consider all of the options (far more than either of them were accustomed to having), but they managed.  When she returned, she insisted they try them on and let her see before she’d let them buy anything.

This took considerably more time than Bucky expected, and he did not like changing clothes in the little room.  He liked less having to go out and find his friends, potentially running into other customers or, worse, salespeople.  Fortunately, Natasha deemed his current wardrobe already better than Steve’s, so he was only forced to pick out two outfits.  Steve needed five.  Thor was informed he didn’t need any, which made him grin, but he joined them nonetheless, ending up with two.

“Well, what are you getting?” Steve asked, a little sourly, when the ordeal was over and he’d done as Natasha had told him.

The redhead held up three dresses: one blue, one silver, and one tan.  Their shape was evident even without being worn, and would likely be tight.  As most of Natasha’s clothing was.

“You aren’t going to try them on?” Thor offered.

She shrugged.  “I come here all the time.  I know what fits.”

“Are you going to make us come with you from now on?” Steve questioned, sounding worried.

Natasha laughed.  “No, Steve, I’ll let you keep dressing like it’s 1945 in your free time.  Just can’t let Sharon down when you take her out,” she teased.

Steve sighed in relief and they all laughed.


	10. Tony Stark's Machinations

“I told you, I’m fine,” Bucky growled.

“No, you’re not,” Steve replied, grabbing his arm to stop him from going any further out of the quinjet.

An attempt to shake him off proved ineffective, and Bucky turned around to glare at him.  “What do you want, Steve?” he demanded, exasperated.

Steve returned his frown, just as stubborn.  “Your arm’s not working right, is it?  It hurts you,” he said quietly, aware that it was one of the few subjects at which he would flinch if someone else brought it up.

Bucky’s face lost all expression, as blank as it had been when Steve saw him for the first time since 1945.  But the moment passed, and he looked away, looking like Bucky again.  “And what would you suggest?”

“Maybe Tony could check it out?” Steve suggested, hiding his relief.

The response was just a curt nod, but it was more than Steve could have hoped for.

Tony was, of course, thrilled with the prospect.  His enthusiasm was, unfortunately, not contagious.  Bucky was downright surly as they walked down to Tony’s lab and Steve mentioned casually that the arm might be damaged.

“Well, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Tony said, seeing Bucky’s expression and dialing back his excitement at the idea of getting to see the kinds of advanced robotics their enemies had managed to produce.

He gestured toward one of the benches in the lab, and Bucky hesitated just a moment before lifting himself up to sit on it, wincing slightly when he put weight on the arm.  Steve resisted the urge to help, and wondered if perhaps he should leave.

“If you could, uh,” Tony suggested, gesturing.

Bucky pulled his shirt off, not looking at either of them.

It was something of a challenge to keep from staring at the heavy scarring where the metal was attached to his shoulder, but they both managed.  Steve had noticed that Bucky always wore something to cover up that part of his body, though he did not seem concerned about showing the arm itself.  Except when undercover, of course.

Bucky held out the appendage silently and Tony moved closer to inspect it.

“It’s bothering you?” he asked, frowning a little.

Bucky shrugged; a fascinating thing to watch when one shoulder was metal.  “Hurts a bit,” he offered.

Tony motioned for Bucky to lift his arm, which he did, and Tony whistled.  “The rest of the world is decades away from this,” he explained when they both looked at him sharply.  “They replaced the major muscle groups in this area with synthetic ones.  May I?” he asked, and tapped on Bucky’s ribs when the latter nodded.  “Replaced some of your bone structure, it looks like.  Bet that was fun,” he growled.

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bucky said, and Steve realized his jaw was clenched.

“No, it’s not,” he replied.

Tony stopped and looked between them warily.  “If it’s a problem,” he began.

“It’s fine,” Bucky repeated.  “Just try to fix it,” he added, more politely.

“Did I ever tell you about the time my business partner arranged to have me abducted in an active war zone?” Tony said conversationally, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“You have not,” he replied.

Tony pulled over a tray of tools and began disassembling the prosthetic carefully, searching for damage while he talked.  “The guy was a friend of my old man’s.”

“Howard?” Bucky supplied, frowning slightly like he always did when remembering something.

Smiling, Tony nodded.  “Yeah, a friend of Howard’s.  Practically raised me after my dad died.  Thought we were pals.  Anyway, I was over in Afghanistan, demoing some new tech, when our convoy was hit.  Couldn’t find Rhodey, the rest of my escort was dead.”  He paused, looking somewhere far away.  “I got knocked out, and next thing I knew, I was in some cave.”

Bucky hissed as Tony did something wrong, then waved off his and Steve’s concern.  “It’s fine, just jolted me a little,” he said.

“Sorry, kid.  So, anyway, I wake up, and I’ve got a bag over my head, and some guy’s talking, I don’t know, Arabic or something.  Then I’m on an operating table and they’re putting something in my chest.  When I finally came to, there was an electromagnet right here,” he tapped his sternum, “and I was attached to a car battery.”

“That sucks,” Bucky told him.

“I know, right?”

“What did they want?”

Tony paused, frowning at a piece of twisted metal in front of him.  “Here’s your problem.  Looks like you got a bit of shrapnel underneath one of the plates somehow.”

“Can you fix it?” Steve asked.

“Sure, just give me a minute.”  Tony slowly removed the slightly damaged plate and studied it, then set it down and pulled out the shrapnel.  “I had about a half dozen of these things heading toward my heart.  New Stark technology, you know,” he said sardonically.

“And the magnet stopped it,” Bucky finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Bucky watched silently for a moment, curious, as Tony worked at repairing the plate.  “What did you do?”

“They wanted me to make them a bomb.  So I made my first Iron Man suit instead, and an arc reactor to fit in here so I wouldn’t have to carry a battery around with me the rest of my life.  Powered the suit.”

“Bet they weren’t expecting that.”

Tony laughed.  “No, they were not.  It didn’t work quite as well as I’d hoped, but it got me out of that cave.”

“Into the middle of the desert,” Bucky said flatly, and Tony chuckled again.

“This should hold, but let me know if you have any more problems with it.  Yeah, I was in the middle of the desert.  Good thing my best friend Rhodey was still looking for me out there,” Tony added, sobering.

Bucky nodded, glancing briefly at Steve.  “That’s what friends are for,” he said.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Yeah, so come see me if you want upgrades or it needs repairs,” he offered.

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky replied, and offered his hand. 

Tony shook it, and then Bucky picked up his shirt and headed out of the lab.  Nodding to Tony, Steve followed his friend.  They walked in silence to the elevator and Bucky pressed the button for their floor.  He stretched out his arm and inspected it.

“Looks good,” Steve said hesitantly.

Bucky smiled.  “Thanks.  For, you know, everything,” he added, carefully looking anywhere but at Steve.

Slightly surprised, Steve glanced over at him and let out his breath slowly.  “It was no problem, Buck.  I’d do it all again if you need me to.”

“I know.  Till the end of the line, right?”

“Till the end of the line.”


	11. Pop Culture

 “Tell me again why we are doing this,” Pepper said quietly to Tony, who made a show of being exasperated.

“Because I’m sick and tired of these people not getting my awesome jokes,” he answered dramatically.

The people in question were Thor, Bucky, and Steve.  Natasha was there also, but had not been invited.  They all laughed at his antics, and Pepper smiled.  “Seems like they do just fine,” she told him gently.

“Yeah, but think of how much more they would enjoy our communications in mission if they knew the references.  And all the nicknames I come up with – I work hard on those!”

“I know you do, dear,” she said soothingly.  “But maybe kidnapping them and forcing them to catch up isn’t the best way to do this,” she continued, looking over at Natasha for confirmation.

Natasha smiled.  “I’m interested to see what Tony considers necessary pop culture,” she explained.

“Come on, ladies, I’ve got this all queued up.  Spent over a week on it,” Tony interjected.

“Alright, fine.  But you boys are welcome to leave if you get bored,” Pepper assured the others, who smiled politely and nodded at her.  “What’s first?”

“Movies!  Sci fi classic – Dune!” Tony said enthusiastically.  Natasha groaned and Bucky looked at her in concern.

She shrugged.  “It’s fine, just, you know, kind of terrible.”

“It’s not terrible, it was groundbreaking!” Tony replied with a frown.

“Groundbreakingly terribly,” Natasha muttered.

They watched it.  It was dense and confusing, but Tony provided a helpful commentary on what was important to notice.  Natasha mostly rolled her eyes at his assessment, however, so Bucky wasn’t sure what to think about it.

Next, they watched another sci fi classic – the Matrix.  It featured some pretty cool action moves and was certainly less convoluted.  Natasha didn’t seem to have a problem with this choice, which made Tony act more smug than usual.  He did not insist that they watch more than the first one (apparently there were more?), which pleased Natasha and Pepper.

The following day, Tony insisted they watch the Indiana Jones trilogy.  Pepper tried to correct him about that, but he was adamant that what he said was accurate.  The reference was lost on the three of them, though Natasha smirked, so must have followed the conversation.  They were very exciting films, but Bucky was beginning to wonder if they would do anything besides watch movies (not that he was complaining).

Star Wars was next.  After seeing the same actor play a similar role in the other trilogy, it was pleasant to see him again.  The first one was good, but a bit simple.  He preferred the second one, and was intrigued by the depth of character that was added, especially by the revelation about the villain of the first film.  Tony told them it was one of the biggest plot twists of all time, to which they smiled and nodded.  Thor seemed to take this quite seriously, and was very quiet during the end of the third movie.  Bucky thought perhaps it wasn’t the best idea of things to have him watch, what with all that had happened to him recently.

Perhaps someone else mentioned this to Tony, because they watched much more light-hearted movies for a while.  Romantic comedies and regular comedies, mainly.  Bucky didn’t think any of them were particularly memorable, but it was a fun way to pass the time.  He liked not having such serious forms of entertainment, though he had enjoyed the science fiction aspect of the earlier choices.

Tony was more hesitant about showing them the next trilogy, called the Lord of the Rings.  The title didn’t ring any bells, but Bucky thought he might have heard of the author or another book of his when they were in England during the war.  Steve was unable to provide any insight into it, so he didn’t know.  Maybe it was just his imagination.  He suspected Tony’s hesitance was due to concern about how Thor would take it.

Fortunately, Thor liked it.  They all did.  It was a complicated story, like Dune had been, but was much more accessible.  By the end of the third one, they were all pretty invested and didn’t mind the length, compounded by the fact that Tony insisted on watching the “extended” versions.  There was apparently much more character development in these, which suited everyone just fine.  They had the day off, anyway, and it was a good way to spend it.  The redemptive attitude toward virtually all the characters definitely hit home for, well, probably all of them.

Pepper must have convinced Tony that they’d watched enough movies, because the next time they were all together, he had musicians for them to watch.  Mostly it was concert footage, which was a unique experience.  Bucky didn’t think he’d seen live music before, and certainly not the kind that Tony had them watch.  He started with the greats, as he called them, from right after the war, and took them right up through the nineties.  He told them there wasn’t anything good after the eighties except for Nirvana, and neither Pepper nor Natasha argued with him.  So maybe he was right.

“Well, ready for another evening of schooling?” Steve asked Bucky as they headed toward the common room.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder.  “I always liked school, unlike some people,” he said delicately.

Steve laughed.  “I liked it fine.  Just had a hard time seeing the point of some of it, I guess.  What’s the plan for tonight?” he added to Tony as they reached the doorway.

Natasha and Thor were already there, seated comfortably around the table, though Pepper was absent.  Tony was standing near one of the monitors, getting things ready, presumably.  “Romanoff says enough videos,” Tony grumbled.  The woman in question smiled benignly to the room at large.  “So we’re going to play a game.”

“What kind of game?” Bucky asked warily, thinking of the other, more strenuous ones they’d played on other floors of the building.

“Poker,” Tony replied with a grin, setting out chips.

Bucky and Steve exchanged looks.  “I hate to break it to you, Tony, but that game’s been around for a while,” Steve told him.

“Well, I was going to give you a rundown on the best books that have come out in the last seventy years, but Pepper told me that would be boring.  So I have reading lists for everyone, and I want to beat Cap at poker.”

Steve laughed.  “I’d like to see you try, old man.”

“Hey, you’re the only one we call that,” Tony said in mock-offense.

“Yeah, especially since Stark is one of the youngest people in the room,” Natasha added, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Thor smiled.  “He is perhaps the most aged, however.”  Tony stared at him in surprise.  “The wisest of us, I am sure,” the god continued, and the others were unable to resist laughing at Tony’s stunned expression.

“Wise or not, let’s see how good he is at poker,” Natasha broke in.

It quickly became apparent why she was impatient – she was quite adept at the game, and was the only one to walk away from the table richer.


	12. Talk to Strangers

Bucky pulls the coat closer around him, glancing at the people passing them by, wondering if anyone will bump into him, will notice that he’s got a hunk of metal for an arm instead of flesh.  No scandalized or confused looks so far, but it’s hard to pay attention to what Steve and Natasha are saying to him with all these people nearby, pressing in close.

“ – to find him some clothes that fit.  He can’t just wear yours, Steve.  You’re inhumanly large.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Steve replies sardonically.

“It’s a compliment,” she defends herself, smiling back at Bucky, who forces a smile in return.  Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t look convinced, and looks over at Steve sharply.

“You doing alright, Buck?” Steve asks, his friendly tone hiding his worry pretty well.

“Fine,” he answers shortly.

He ignores the look that passes between them and focuses on staying in their wake, before the crowd closes in behind them.  Why is it so crowded here?  How can any of them feel safe in this environment?  He had more control of his surroundings in almost every combat situation he’s been in (that he can remember), even the ones that ended badly.  This one can’t end well, he thinks.  But he lets his best friend and … well, another friend, he guesses she would be, lead him through the mall in search of something.  Clothes for him, maybe.  He has clothes, though, so he suspects the goal of this little exercise is more conditioning him to the real world than dressing him up.

It’s not that he doesn’t need the conditioning; he understands their reasoning.  His current heartrate is a clear indication that he needs some work before being mission-ready.  But he isn’t sure he’ll be able to endure this.  In the field, he had orders to follow.  The Winter Soldier follows orders.  The Winter Soldier does not deviate.  Sometimes he would go over the mantra in his head to stay calm when things went awry.  He supposes he had something similar to cope with missions during the war.  But nothing seems to be working now.

“So, James, anything in particular that you’re after?” Natasha asks, slowing her pace to walk beside him and link arms.  It’s a startling gesture, but he understands her motives quickly – if she’s on his left, no one will notice anything wrong with him.  Well, not the fact that he has a metal prosthetic, anyway.

He allows a grateful smile to cross his lips for a moment before glancing toward Steve, who smiles at him over his shoulder.  “Well, I…  I guess I could use some workout clothes,” he offers, uncertainly.

A winning smile appears on her face and he considers how easily someone would be ensnared by it, if she wanted them to be.  “Excellent choice.  I get most of mine here,” she adds, waving toward a store.  “Shall we try it?”

Both of them have stopped and are looking at him, waiting.  “Sure,” he answers noncommittally.  Steve’s brow furrows a little, ready to reassure him, to remind him that they can go where ever he wants.  But he has no idea what the options are, let alone what he wants.  Wanting things… it’s a new mindset.  He isn’t used to it yet.

The three of them walk into the store.  It’s brightly lit and smells like plastic.  Or maybe vinyl.  There are no exits; the door in the back likely leads to a stock room, not a way out.  There are four people inside: a cashier, male, early twenties, medium build, not a threat; a shopper, female, late forties, large build, not a threat; a young shopper, male, under ten, small build, likely child of the woman, not a threat; a stocker, male, late twenties, large build, possible threat.

Steve and Natasha are enthusiastic as they find him things that will be useful.  He keeps an eye on the other people in the store, threats or not, as well as on the exit, and manages to force a smile from time to time as they show him options.

“Well, I think that’s enough.  Why don’t you go try these on?” Natasha asks, folding her arms over her chest thoughtfully.

He looks at Steve, who nods encouragingly.  “Right back there, Buck,” he says, pointing.  “You can come show us if you want, or just pick what you like and let us know if you want.”

Bucky nods slowly, then heads toward the dressing room area.  The stockroom is further along than he thought, with a few partitions forming the rooms in question.  He checks the perimeter out of habit, and is relieved to find the stock area empty and without any indication of a trap.  Then he walks back to the stall and locks the door behind him.  Tentatively, he pulls off his over-large jacket, then shirt.  There aren’t any cameras, he reminds himself; he looked.  There isn’t any way someone will see his arm, potentially recognize it.  Or at least be upset, shocked, horrified, by it.

As he was told, he tries on each of the items Natasha and Steve picked out, giving each the most cursory glance in the mirror.  None are better or worse than any others, so he supposes he will pick some at random to purchase and hope it pleases them.

Footsteps interrupt him, and he freezes, listening hard.  Light steps – possibly a child.  Maybe the boy from the front of the store.  It doesn’t matter; he holds still and waits, feeling trapped.  Focusing on keeping his breathing soundless, he listens as the person enters the dressing room beside his and starts making sounds indicating that he or she is changing clothes.

He glances over at the pile of clothes still to try on and considers whether or not he should continue.  Surely it would be more suspicious for him to be here motionless and silent than for him to be using the room for its purpose.  With some force of will, he gets his arms to move and continue putting on and removing each item.  His neighbor doesn’t make any different sort of sound to indicate alarm, so he starts to relax very slightly.

“Mom?” a querulous voice stops him abruptly.  There isn’t an answer, and sounds of distress cause Bucky to feel the wings of panic fluttering in his chest.

The door next to his can be heard opening, and then there is a knock on his own door.  “Excuse me, um, sir?” the voice continues after a pause.

Licking his dry lips, Bucky considers his options.  “Yes?” he says at last.

“I’m, um, a little stuck.  Could you, um, help me?”

It’s not as though he can escape from this place without passing the boy outside, so he hastily pulls on a long-sleeve shirt and opens his door.  The child is looking up at him earnestly, big brown eyes, light brown hair, somehow tangled in a shirt.  He can’t see the problem, and the fingers on his right hand tighten on the door as he holds his left behind his back.

“What… what can I do?” he asks haltingly.

“Could you grab this part?” the child suggests, moving his arm to gesture what he means.

Carefully, Bucky reaches out his flesh hand to take hold of the cloth and pull it gently upward.  It is caught on something sharp, and he hears it start to rip.  The boy looks upset, close to tears, but gives him a nod to continue.  When the shirt is lifted free, Bucky can see the problem.  The boy is missing his left arm too.  And the prosthetic is, well, considerably less advanced than Bucky’s.

“Thank you,” the child says, almost despondently, as he looks at the ripped cloth.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurts, surprised at the intensity of his words.

The kid is, too, and looks up at him sharply.  Then smiles a little shyly.  “It’s alright, sir.  It happens sometimes.”

Bucky nods slowly.  “How did you – ” he starts, then cuts himself off abruptly.

“I was born without it,” the boy explains, seeming quite comfortable with the situation.  “Sometimes, it bothers me not to be like the other kids.  But I think a person can adapt to anything, don’t you?”

The idea makes Bucky wince.  “Yeah, I guess so.  You know, I lost my arm a little while back,” he finds himself saying.

The boy smiles tentatively.  “Really?  Do you have something like this?” he asks, holding out his prosthetic.

“Not exactly,” he answers, and looks around carefully.  Then he pulls his sleeve up and shows his left hand.

“That is so cool!” the boy cries enthusiastically, leaning forward to look.  “It works like a real hand?”

“Yeah.”

He watches the child turn it over, and flexes his fingers for him.  “Amazing!  Where did you get it?”

His brow furrows a little, but then he forces a smile.  “It was given to me so I could keep doing my job,” he tries.

“What’s your job?” the boy asks, stepping back to look up at him in wonder.  “Are you a superhero?”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer (to deny it), when Steve steps around the corner.  “Hey, Buck, are you –” he pauses, seeing the child.  “Ready to go?” he finishes after a moment.

“Yes,” he says, and smiles at the way the kid looks at Steve.  “Let’s go.”


	13. Non-Lethal Competition, Part III

“Driving isn’t exactly my forte,” Clint said, fletching an arrow.

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Is having fun part of your forte?”

Clint shrugged and Natasha giggled.  Everyone turned to look at her, since giggling wasn’t usually her modus operandi.  At least, not unless she was undercover.  “Clint is plenty of fun in the field.  He’s pretty cranky when he’s home, though.  Just wants to sleep all the time,” she explained affectionately.

“What do you want us to do, Stark?” Steve asked, preemptively avoiding any further side conversations.

Tony grinned.  “I have an indoor racetrack downstairs, just put the finishing touches.  We can race go-karts on it!”

“I don’t remember racing turning out well last time for you,” Natasha said dryly, and Tony paused.

“Yeah, well, I don’t expect any Russian assassins to try to kill me,” he shot back, glaring at her, then at Bucky.

Bucky threw up his hands.  “Definitely not my intention,” he assured Tony, while Natasha just sat back with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly safe,” Steve put in, hiding his amusement.

“Just racing, though?  I mean, your stuff is usually a bit more unique than that,” Clint said in the ensuing silence.

Tony stopped glaring at Natasha and turned to Clint.  “Yeah, well, you know me.  It won’t be boring,” he answered with a grin.

“How interesting is it going to be?” Bruce asked quietly.

“You’ll be fine,” Tony assured him at the same time Steve said “Maybe you want to sit this one out.”

The two of them turned to look at each other, and Bruce smiled slowly.  “How about we go check out the track and then I’ll decide?”

“Good idea,” Thor said suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him.  He could be surprisingly quiet, for someone so physically obvious.

“You heard ‘em, let’s go,” Tony suggested, getting to his feet.  The others followed suit and headed down to the elevator.

“Hmm,” Natasha said when it opened, looking at the small space dubiously.  “Perhaps someone could have installed two elevators,” she suggested.

Tony rolled his eyes at her.  “I’ll head down first to get things ready.  Barton, Banner, and Thor should come with me to help.  You think the rest of you can fit?”

“I’m sure we can,” Natasha replied sweetly, and Tony snorted.

The hallway was much more spacious with them gone, and Bucky felt somewhat relieved not to be stuffed into an elevator.  Even if it was with friends.  He wasn’t fond of tight spaces these days, and especially not being surrounded.

“So, any plans this weekend?” Natasha asked conversationally.

“Nope,” Steve answered shortly.

Natasha fixed him with a frown.  “What about Sharon?”

“What about her?”

Bucky smiled at Steve’s tone; it was very familiar.  Steve had never liked talking about dames.

“You could ask her out,” Natasha told him.

“Already did.  She’s in the field,” Steve replied, grinning at Natasha’s surprise.

“Well, good job,” she grumbled as the elevator reappeared and they got on board.  “So, Barnes, you got any plans?”

“Almost never,” Bucky replied affably.

She smiled at him.  “You know, that sounds pretty good.”

He returned the expression and then the elevator dinged and opened.

Seeing an indoor track was certainly impressive.  It was quite large, filling the whole floor.  There was a row of go-karts parked near the elevator and the others were crowded around them, listening to Tony explain something.

“This releases a net, and this one lets out a little oil to get the guy behind you to slip,” he was saying.

“It does what?” Steve asked, somewhat incredulous.

Tony grinned at him.  “It’s not just racing, O Captain, my Captain.  It’s more fun if you have some offense and defense going on.”

Steve looked over the karts in silence for a moment, the others waiting for his opinion.  “Don’t you think this could get someone killed?” he said finally.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Tony assured him.  No one looked particularly convinced.

Natasha folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head at Tony.  “Are you going to be wearing the suit while you race?”

“No,” Tony replied, sounding surprised.

“Then I’m sure the rest of us will be fine,” she said with a smirk.

Tony didn’t look too happy about that assessment.  “Well, let us try out Stark’s machines,” Thor suggested, looking surprisingly excited by the prospect.  Bucky wondered if the god could drive and could see the same thought occurring to the others.

“I think I’ll just watch the first race,” Bruce said, and settled himself against the wall by the elevator, out of the way as he preferred to be.

After a few moments of confusion, everyone was in a kart.  It was a little unlike Tony not to have made ones personalized for each of them, but he told them he would make whatever modifications they would want.  They were all the same for now, which was probably good.  Evened the playing field.

JARVIS provided a countdown, and then they were off.  Bucky had driven minimally in his life, though possibly more than Steve.  Not as often as the others, more than likely.  But precision wasn’t a requirement here, since bumping into each other wasn’t really an issue (not preferred, perhaps, but not a problem).  Tony was, naturally, the first one to use any of the gadgets, and then Bucky found it difficult to both drive and remember which button released what.

Tony won; it was only to be expected.  He was, after all, the only one familiar with the tech.  Clint came in second, and Natasha was not happy about coming in third.  Thor and Bucky tied for fourth, and Steve was last.  Bucky suspected Steve had wanted to stay behind him, to keep an eye on him, which rankled a little bit.  But he didn’t say anything.

Bruce joined in after that, and they raced the afternoon away.  By the end of it, most of them were fairly covered in grease, the track was filthy, but they were all laughing.  It was a good day.

“Alright, JARVIS, who is our champion?” Tony asked as he wiped off his face and hair with a towel.

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to be keeping track, sir,” JARVIS replied politely and Tony shot it a dirty look.

“Most of your Midgardian games choose a champion,” Thor put in, smiling.

“Come on, JARVIS, I’m sure you can go back over the footage,” Natasha said sweetly.

“Come on, JARVIS,” everyone else chanted until the AI let out a heavy sigh.

“Mr. Stark won 4 races, Agents Barton and Romanoff 3 each, Dr. Banner 1, Sgt. Barnes and Capt. Rogers 2 each, and … Thor 5.”  The pause was perhaps a consideration of what title to give the god.

Thor grinned like a cat, while Tony looked confused and counted on his fingers.  “Why would you give them to us in that order?” Tony asked cantankerously.

The AI didn’t respond, but Thor clapped him on the back.  “It was a splendid competition, my friend.  I would enjoy a rematch at a later date,” he said graciously, and Tony smiled.

“Well, I need a shower,” Natasha grumbled and headed for the elevator.  The others agreed and followed her, silently deciding to squeeze everyone in, since they were slippery enough anyway.


	14. Modern Music

Tony always had music playing.  It helped him think, apparently.  Usually loud, often classic rock.  He was known to play more contemporary stuff, but he obviously preferred music from when he was young.  Younger.  It was always easy to find him in the building because it was where the loudest music was coming from.  If people came to see him, he would usually turn it down, but not always.  Not if he was in the middle of something.  It was important not to bother him when he was in the middle of something.

Bruce also liked music to work by, though not the high-energy stuff Tony used.  If they were working together, he didn’t seem to mind Tony’s choice, but classical usually reigned the day in his lab.  He liked things quiet and organized, but never minded being bothered during his work.  He might ask a visitor to wait a few minutes while he finished something, but was impossible to sneak up on.  Not that anyone would want to, but Tony was frequently too focused on what he was doing to notice.

Thor liked Asgardian music, whatever that meant.  If the conversation drifted to music, he was happy to contribute and everyone listened politely as he described instruments they had never heard of.  Thus far, he had been unable to bring them a sample in any playable format, but was undeterred.  Clint joked that the Prince might force some of his subjects to visit solely for the purpose of sharing the sound with his friends.  Thor was willing to listen to any music anyone might play, and was not partial to any particular genre.

Clint had a workout mix, allegedly composed of the biggest pop hits.  Whether or not that was true, most of them featured heavy electronic sounds and the lyrics, often repetitive, referred to dance clubs and nights out drinking.  It was a good workout mix, great for getting blood pumping and with a defined beat for doing reps.  If he listened to music outside of the gym, he didn’t show it.

Natasha also had a workout mix, similar to Clint’s but with a little more edge.  More rock than strictly pop.  Though she also liked to mix things up, keep from being predictable, so it was sometimes a surprise what was playing when she worked out.  Very occasionally, and it was very difficult to catch her at it, she would play the old masters and dance to it.  God, could she dance.

Steve, like Tony, preferred to listen to music from a less complicated time in his life.  That turned out to have been over seventy years ago, though, so he invested in a record player and vinyls.  He was not against new music, and was always willing to give something a try.  He appreciated Clint’s choice in a workout mix (sometimes he found Natasha’s unsettling), and could sometimes be found humming one of those songs while he cooked or did laundry.

Sam presumably listened to his preferred music when he was home, because he acquiesced easily to whatever anyone else wanted to hear.  The only time Bucky heard what he liked was when Sam drove him places and it was just the two of them in the car.  Bucky, of course, had no musical preference to start with, so Sam had introduced him to his kind of music.  It was of a slower tempo than the pop music and the lyrics were more meaningful.

Bucky listened to everyone’s preferences, even Steve’s, with a somewhat detached appreciation.  It was great to hear what artists were doing, or had been doing.  But nothing struck him particularly and he didn’t seek any out.  He liked to have music playing while he got some exercise or chores done, but the genre or era was unimportant.  It was good to hear people expressing themselves, and no medium could be more personal than music.

 

“Here’s your problem,” Tony said triumphantly as he twisted one of the metal plates in Bucky’s arm back into place.

“Thanks,” Bucky replied, unimpressed.

Tony looked a little disappointed in the reaction, then got back to work.  “So, how’d this one happen?” he asked.

“Well, you know, sometimes HYDRA goons have grenades,” Bucky answered with a shrug.

Tony opened his mouth to continue the conversation but was disrupted by a cacophony projected by the speakers in the ceiling.

Both of them jerked in surprise and looked up, trying to identify the noise.

“What the hell?” Tony grumbled, dropping his tools and heading for the door of the lab.

Bucky followed him, listening hard.  “Is that… music?” he asked.

Tony snorted.  “Yeah, it’s popular in Japan, I think.  Maybe Korea,” he added, pressing his hands to his ears with a frown.  “JARVIS!  Turn this off!” he shouted over the noise.

JARVIS didn’t respond, which made Tony grow visibly tense.  He glanced back at Bucky, who set his shoulders and followed him down the hallway to the elevator.  The sound was no quieter inside of it, and they rode it up to the common room.

“Someone’s probably just playing it real loud,” Bucky suggested.

Tony nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.  “Yeah, sure,” he replied tightly.

The elevator doors opened and they were greeted by the sight of a very annoyed Natasha.

“What is this?” she asked coldly.

“You don’t enjoy a little pop music from the East?” Tony responded sarcastically.

Steve and Clint were in the room as well, looking less annoyed than Natasha, but not particularly pleased, either.

“It would be nice to be able to hear everyone talk,” Steve put in.

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Tony growled, motioning toward the room at large.

“You lost control of your AI?” Natasha asked politely.

Tony frowned at her.  “JARVIS doesn’t like JPop,” he said defensively.

Clint snorted at that.  “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, because he’s playing it really loud for not liking it,” Bucky agreed.

“You too?” Tony asked, turning around.

Bucky smiled disarmingly.  “I was with him the whole time, guys.  No idea how this started,” he explained.  Tony looked satisfied, while the others looked more distressed.

“So you’re not controlling him?” Clint pressed.

“I never control JARVIS,” Tony answered testily.

“Well, maybe we’d better fan out and search for what the problem is,” Steve suggested.

“Good idea.  Come on, Stark,” Bucky said, nodding toward the elevator.

Tony nodded slowly and followed him.  “Is there like a central control room for this place?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah.  JARVIS,” Tony started then cleared his throat.  “Guess we have to actually push the buttons,” he grumbled, and Bucky smiled slightly.

“How archaic,” he replied, dead-pan, and Tony looked a little amused.

They headed for the room Tony described, and Bucky stopped in the doorway to look at all the server towers.  Tony moved forward as though the sight was not worth remarking on, and Bucky forced himself to follow.  The technology of this century was not wholly unfamiliar, but was often impressive.  He walked down the rows to where Tony had stopped, glaring.

“That’s not my tech,” he said, pointing to a small green box.

Bucky looked at the box, then at Tony.  “Think it’s the problem?”

“Yep.”  Tony leaned forward and started disconnecting it.  “JARVIS?” he shouted when the music puttered out.

“Yes, sir?”

“What just happened?” Tony demanded.

“A practical joke, I believe, sir.”

“Who did it?”

“Col. Rhodes was in here earlier,” JARVIS responded politely.

Tony looked at the box in his hand and frowned deeply.  “Hey, buddy, do me a favor.”

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Crush this for me.”

Bucky smiled.  “Happy to.”  The box collapsed easily under the weight of his metal fingers.  Then he handed it back to Tony.

“You want to come talk to Rhodey with me?” Tony asked.

“Sounds like fun.” 


	15. Stay Drunk

“I’m just saying, I think it would be an improvement,” Clint was saying.

Tony waved at him eloquently.  “See, it’s not just me, Cap,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Steve said defensively, waving them off.

“Come on, Rogers,” Tony implored.

Steve stopped and turned to Bucky.  “What do you think, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged.  “I think you need a way to relax.”

“Yeah, drinking to relax has never gone wrong for anyone,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

Tony frowned at her.  “I’m not saying he should look for the meaning of life at the bottom of a bottle.  Capsicle might just enjoy our poker games if he weren’t the only sober one,” he told her.

She smiled thinly.  “We could just not drink,” she suggested.

“Women,” Tony responded, shaking his head slowly.

Steve smiled slightly.  “It’s an important part of the male bonding experience, Nat,” he explained.

Natasha snorted.  “Fine, you boys have fun.  Is Pepper around?”

“Miss Potts is on the 4th floor, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS interjected before Tony could respond.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” she said with a smile, and headed out of the room.

“So, what do you say, Cap?  Can I look into finding a way to get you drunk?”

Steve shrugged.  “Do what you have to, Tony,” he responded.  “What do you need from me?”

“Just some blood.”

Wrinkling his nose, Steve nodded.  “Fine, Stark.  Hopefully you’ll have more success than your – than the last time some scientists got ahold of my blood.”

“You’d better destroy it when you’re done with it,” Bucky said suddenly.

The three other men turned to look at him sharply.

He cleared his throat.  “HYDRA would kill for a sample.  And they’re not the only ones.”

“I’ll be careful,” Tony promised.  “No one can get their hands on my stuff.”

Bucky nodded slowly, still looking suspicious.  “See that they don’t.”  Then he turned and headed out, leaving the other three looking at each other in surprise.

 

It took a while – a few months and more than a few pints of blood.  Steve didn’t complain too loudly about the loss, nor did he push for results.  Tony had other things to do, of course, but was very intent on finishing this project.  No one else was more than mildly interested in the idea, and Bucky was the only one worrying about the whole thing.  It was always a surprise to see how protective he was of one of the strongest men on earth.

Finally, it was ready.

“A simple injection beforehand will make you able to feel the effects.  It will wear off in under twenty-four hours, and you’ll have to inject yourself again next time you want it to work,” Tony explained, glancing at Bucky for approval.

“Sounds pretty safe,” the latter replied, nodding.

“Sounds like a pain,” Steve responded, looking dubiously at the kit Tony was showing them.

Tony shrugged.  “Best I could do at this point.  Let’s see if it works before I make it fancier,” he said.

Steve put on his mission face and nodded seriously, picking up the needle.

“Not like that,” Tony said sharply, and Steve looked up in surprise.  “We have to make sure everyone’s available for a party,” he explained.

Bucky snorted, but Steve nodded.  “Alright, let’s do this.”  He handed Bucky a syringe, too, and he looked briefly surprised.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he said.

 

In a shockingly short amount of time, Tony had gathered everyone in the common room with plenty of alcohol, food, and games.

“Okay, everyone, ready for your mission objective tonight?” Tony called over all of them.

“Yes!” they shouted back, holding up their glasses.

“Let’s get Captain America drunk off his ass!”  This was met with resounding agreement, and everyone got a turn showing off their favorite drinking game.

Tony suggested the classic beer pong, though with stronger booze.

Natasha had some less deadly version of Russian roulette.

Clint had them watch a show and drink whenever common things happened.

Sam had one from his days in the Air Force that required a super soldier or a god to win.

Thor shared one from his culture, and no one had the stamina for it.

Bruce drank lightly with them, but didn’t offer a game.

Bucky reminded Steve of one they used to play in the war, and Steve was relieved to play something familiar.  The pressure from everyone was starting to get to him.

After over an hour one thing became clear – Tony’s concoction didn’t work.  Scratch that – Tony’s concoction didn’t work on Steve.  It was extremely effective on Bucky.

Sam was the first one to notice it, when Bucky put his arm around his shoulders suddenly and laughed at his joke.  “You’re right, Sam, you always are,” he said.  He didn’t slur or stumble, but it was certainly out of character for the otherwise pretty quiet and stoic former soldier.

“That’s because everyone loves you, Natasha,” Bucky said later, when she was telling a story from a mission.  She raised her eyebrow at him, thinking the comment seemed a little unrelated.  Then she smiled and went to see how Steve was doing.

“He’s a better marksman than me, but I’m better in combat,” Bucky muttered about Clint, frowning at the table in front of them.  Clint stopped his conversation with Rhodey to glance over at him.

“You okay, Barnes?”

“Sure thing, Hawkguy,” Bucky replied, then giggled.  Clint and Rhodey looked at each other in surprise, then back at the giggling ex-Soviet assassin.

Bruce was drinking quietly by himself and Bucky went over to join him.  “It’s tough being so effective sometimes,” Bucky mumbled into his drink.

“Yeah, it is,” Bruce replied, watching him carefully.

“That’s why you’re such a good friend,” Bucky continued, clapping him on the shoulder.  Using his left hand, which he usually kept away from people.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Bruce answered, raising an eyebrow.

“Thor!  Let’s play that game again – I think I can take you!” Bucky shouted, getting to his feet.

Thor grinned.  “Happy to, my friend!” he answered.

Bucky stumbled as he walked over, and giggled again as he did so.  “I’m totally fine, guys, totally,” he insisted.

Steve walked over to check on him.  “You alright, Buck?”

“Just fine, Stevie,” Bucky replied with a broad smile, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Looks like your stuff did its job on one of us,” Steve called to Tony.

“Sorry about that, Cap.  Better luck next time.”

Steve frowned down at Bucky, who was leaning against him heavily.  “I think someone needs to sleep it off.  Twenty-four hours?” he questioned.

Tony shrugged.  “Probably!”

“Great…  He’s so fun when he’s hung over,” Steve grumbled as he pulled Bucky around and headed toward the elevator.

“Stevie’s the best,” Bucky was muttering to himself as they went.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said with a small smile as the elevator doors closed.  “Always appreciated your faith in me.”


	16. Handle Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit odd - you'll have to forgive the handwaving of the explanation and just enjoy the cuteness :)

Things used to be simpler.  Not because of the now outdated technology.  Not because everyone was patriotic and politics were uncomplicated.  Not because he was younger then and is nostalgic.  No, things were simpler because he didn’t have to worry about gods or eldritch creatures or mad scientists.  Men who made monsters or became ones themselves. 

When he was young, they were not wealthy, but did alright.  Well enough to help out that skinny kid down the street.  He went to school, played in the street with the other boys, went home for dinner.  Simple.  Later, he worked at the factory and walked home with Steve, who was taking art classes on the way.  Simple.  Then the war started and he soon found himself in basic training.  And that was simple, too.

Being a soldier was, well, not exactly simple when HYDRA weapons came into account.  But he managed and the only surprising thing was Steve showing up out of nowhere to save his ass from a lab table.  Then things changed, but returned to the same simplicity he had come to expect.  Until he fell from that damn train.  Then things got even simpler – he slept, they woke him, he killed, and he slept again.  Horrifyingly simple.

He certainly isn’t nostalgic for that time.  But now he’s faced with new, unaccountable scenarios almost monthly.  A shadow that can pass through walls or make himself solid enough to kill you.  A Nazi scientist still alive because he’s uploaded his brain into a machine.  So, after a rough mission, when he returns to Avengers Tower to find all his teammates have turned into toddlers, he’s hardly surprised.  Certainly not pleased, but not surprised.

Steve is sitting next to the elevator, waiting for him.  “Bucky!” he cries in delight when the doors open.

Bucky blinks down at the small, blond boy grinning up at him.  “Oh, hell,” he grumbles.

Steve’s little brow furrows.  “No cussing!” he admonishes.

“Sorry, Stevie,” Bucky replies and picks up the child.  He remembers some of caring for his little sister, but he doesn’t think he knows how to deal with a toddler.  Hoping someone else is home, he heads for the common room.

Something small and hard hits his arm, and he turns sharply to find another little blond boy holding a slingshot.  His eyes grow wide when Bucky sees him and he starts to run.

“Whoa, there, Clint,” Bucky says, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he catches the child with his metal arm.  Careful not to hurt him, he lifts him and continues in the same direction.  He hears them before he sees them, and is, again, not surprised to see young Natasha, Tony, Rhodey, and Bruce.  The first two are fighting over something, Bruce is quietly playing in the corner, and Rhodey is trying to get Tony to let it go.

Bruce seems to be the oldest of the group, so Bucky sets down Steve and Clint to go talk to him.  “Hey, Bruce,” he says quietly, watching the two he brought take Natasha’s side.

“Hello,” Bruce replies, looking up at him warily.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

Bruce frowns a little.  “When?”

“To make you all kids,” Bucky suggests.

Perplexed, Bruce shakes his head slowly.  At that point, Natasha has successfully wrested control of a model plane from Tony and runs away with it.  Tony follows, and they both trip over Bruce, who starts to cry.  Then, fascinatingly, he turns in to a tiny version of the Hulk.  The other kids understandably run and/or start crying, but Bucky is relieved to find he can still pick up the little guy without hurting either of them.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” he says, feeling uncomfortable.  He and the doctor aren’t exactly close.  “Calm down, big guy.”

Somehow, it works, because the little Hulk turns back into himself, and promptly falls asleep in Bucky’s arms.  Biting his lip, Bucky takes him over to the couch and sets him down gently.  The crisis averted, the children have gotten back to squabbling.

“Hey, listen up!” Bucky calls, not too loud.  They freeze, staring at him.  “Okay, who remembers what happened today?” he asks, more gently.

“I do!  I do!” Tony shouts, running toward him.

“Alright, what was it?” Bucky prompts when the child continues to chant the phrase.

“It was Thor!” Tony tells him enthusiastically.

God or no, Bucky doesn’t think Thor could do this to them.  But maybe he can help and isn’t a tiny child.  “Was it?  Do you know where he is, Tony?” Bucky questions.

“Bucky!  He won’t give it back!” Steve’s anguished cry interrupts them.

He turns to see Steve and a tiny Hulk grappling over the model airplane.  Bucky supposes that Steve must still have his super strength to be holding his own here.  He heads over to help when Natasha jumps between them, kicking them apart, and taking the toy for herself.  Then she runs off to join Clint, perched on the back of the couch.

Bucky rubs his face with his real hand.  “Why don’t we have any more toys?” he grumbles.

“What didja say about toys?” Tony asks, pulling at his sleeve.

“Can you tell me where Thor is?” Bucky responds.

Tony frowns up at him.  “I can for a toy,” he says, and Bucky tries not to laugh at his serious expression.

“Yeah, we’ll tell you for a new toy,” Rhodey chimes in with his friend.

It’s difficult not to swear again, but he figures it would make the little ones freak out.  Surely there are toys somewhere in this place…  Or something they could use as toys.  He wracks his brain, considering.  They all have their quirks, but he’s surprised they even found the model that they did, let alone any other toys.

“Hey, everybody!  Let’s go find some toys!” he shouts.  The response is deafening and he can’t resist smiling as he herds them all toward the elevator.

It’s irrationally frightening to get them all over the split between the real floor and the elevator, but he manages.  Clint and Steve are immediately climbing the wall, but he doesn’t think they can hurt themselves too much in the short ride down to the ground floor.  He immediately regrets his decision as soon as they get to the doors outside.  There’s no way he’ll be able to keep track of all of them, he thinks.

They attract considerable attention, with him still in his uniform and six little kids running all around him.  Some people stare, some offer help.  He manages to get them into a toy store two doors down and tells them they can each pick out one toy.  A time limit helps, but the store owners are watching them very suspiciously while the children run around and pick something special.  Natasha picks a ballerina doll, Clint a new sling shot, Tony a fancy-looking Nerf gun, Rhodey a toy plane, Bruce a chemistry set, and Steve just stands stoically by his side and says he wants nothing.

After paying and getting a sympathetic look from the cashier, he herds them back home.  Steve is helpful, and Bucky feels bad about his lack of toy.  If they stay children much longer, he’ll have to make reparations there.  But hopefully Thor is home and will know what to do.  He manages to get all of them into the elevator and back up to the common room.  Tony isn’t too happy about being interrupted at playtime, but confesses that “He-Man” is on the roof.

Nervous as he feels about leaving them on their own, he heads up and is considerably relieved to find Thor there, talking to someone clearly from Asgard.

“Ah, Sergeant Barnes!  A successful mission?” Thor asks jovially when he spots Bucky.

“The mission was, yeah.  Are you aware that everyone downstairs is about three years old?” Bucky responds, a little crankily.

“What?” Thor questions, looking sharply at his friend, who smiles.

“I have that effect on Midgardians, I’m afraid.  Perhaps you’d better come visit me next time,” the older man says, smiling sadly.

Thor nods, and the man disappears as though he never existed.  “What the hell?” Bucky mutters.

“I’ll explain later.  Let’s go check on our friends,” Thor replies.

Sighing loudly, Bucky follows him back downstairs and is very relieved to find everyone their correct age.  Thor explains the situation to everyone, but he can’t seem to care.  How he wishes things would just go back to be simple, like they used to be.


	17. Avoiding Animals

Sometimes Sam brought a dog to the Tower.  Tony wasn’t too excited about it, so that was rare.  Bucky had met a few dogs this way, but mostly he knew a cat.  Natasha’s cat, except not really.  It was a stray, and Natasha liked to feed it.  His name was Liho, which meant bad luck.  Since he was a black cat, that made sense.  He came by whenever he felt like it, but never stayed for long.

Bucky couldn’t remember if he’d liked animals before, but he did now.  Perhaps more than he did people.  Animals were more predictable, and would pick up on any changes in the environment before he did.  Though it seemed a little paranoid to think of it that way, he appreciated the warning that something was happening.  He startled easily, and didn’t like to be too obvious about it.

One afternoon, he was sitting in the common room with Liho on his lap, purring as he stroked his back absently.  Suddenly, the cat rose to his feet, hair bristling, and hissed, staring intently at the door.  Bucky frowned a little, also turning his attention to the door.  A sneeze alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

“Damn cat,” Clint grumbled as he walked into the room, glaring at the creature.

Bucky smiled slightly.  “Seems like a nice kitty to me,” he said dryly.

Clint shrugged, dropping onto the other couch.  “Yeah, Liho’s fine.  Just dealing with allergies anyway and cat hair doesn’t help,” he explained with a sigh, rubbing his nose.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky replied, uncertain whether or not he should make Liho leave.  It wasn’t his cat, he reasoned, so he wasn’t really responsible for the archer’s discomfort.  Probably.

They sat in companionable silence, broken only by Clint’s occasional sniffles, for a while.  Clint was reading something, but Bucky was just petting the cat.  It was calming, though he did like to read.  He was doing that before the cat came along and took over his lap.

“There you are, Liho,” Natasha said in Russian as she came into the room, a smile quirking on her lips.

Bucky glanced down at the cat, surprised it had done nothing to warn him that someone was approaching.  Natasha dropped onto the seat next to him and scratched behind Liho’s ears.

“I’m headed out, thought I’d take him with me,” she explained, almost apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Bucky told her quickly, picking up the cat and handing him over, wincing a little as Liho dug in for a moment before allowing himself to be moved.

Natasha smiled.  “Well, if you want some company, go talk to Pepper,” she suggested.

He glanced over at Clint, who was ignoring them.  “Talk to her about what?” he asked.

“Just go talk to her,” Natasha repeated, cradling Liho against her chest and leaving the room as silently as she’d entered it.

Figuring he had nothing better to do with his afternoon, Bucky got to his feet and headed for the elevator.  He’d seen Pepper frequently, but didn’t think he’d ever been alone with her before.  So it was a strange suggestion.  Most everyone else was out on assignments, though, so he supposed she thought he might be lonely.  Still, Clint had been sitting right there…

JARVIS brought him to one of Tony’s floors, where Pepper apparently was.  He’d never been there before, and walked forward cautiously.  It had a similar layout to the floor he shared with Steve, though somehow seemed more light and airy.  Perhaps the windows were taller, he thought, pausing to study them.  They were floor to ceiling, but it wouldn’t surprise him if the ceilings were higher on some floors.

“Oh, hello,” Pepper’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to face her.  She was coming out of a bedroom, and seemed surprised to find him there.  He fought down the urge to run.

“Hi,” he replied belatedly.  Then he cleared his throat as she continued to watch him with a polite smile on her face.  “Natasha said I should, um, come talk to you,” he said haltingly.

“She did?”  Pepper frowned slightly in surprise, then something must have clicked because she smiled warmly.  “Oh!  Good.  I was hoping she could find someone.  Come with me,” she told him, and headed down the hallway.  Seeing no other option, Bucky followed her.

They went to a small sitting room at the end of the hall, containing an easy chair, a bookshelf, and a litter box.  Tony was crouched in front of the latter, talking soothingly.

“Tony, Bucky’s here,” Pepper announced.

Tony got to his feet, brushing off the knees of his pants as he did so.  “And he’s, what, the cat whisperer?” he asked, clearly annoyed about something.

Pepper shrugged.  “Natasha sent him down.”  Then she turned to Bucky.  “A friend of mine asked us to watch her cat for the weekend.  She doesn’t seem to like us, and won’t leave the box.  She hasn’t eaten since she got here.”

Bucky nodded slowly, uncertainly.

“As soon as I let her out of her carrying cage, she bolted,” Tony added.

“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have been working with something that had a motor right next to her,” Pepper suggested with forced politeness.

Tony threw up his hands.  “I didn’t think a cat would be so skittish,” he grumbled.  “Anyway, maybe the guy with the mechanical arm will have more luck.”

Bucky looked between the two of them, Tony frowning down at the box, clearly upset by a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and Pepper smiling at him encouragingly.  “I can try,” he offered at last.

They moved out of the way and he knelt in front of the box, leaning down to look in at the cat.  She was calico, with big green eyes, staring at him warily, her tail lashing.  “Hey, pretty kitty,” he began softly.

“Lacey,” Pepper provided.

Bucky smiled a little at the name.  “Hello, Lacey.  What a pretty girl you are,” he murmured, reaching out his human hand slowly, palm up.  The cat didn’t move, just watched him until he was close enough that she could sniff his fingertips.  Then she moved forward to rub on his hand and started purring.  He petted her for a few moments, backing out gradually.  She came along, until she was standing in front of the box.

“Maybe he is the cat whisperer,” Pepper said in a stage whisper to Tony, who snorted.

“Animals just like me, is all,” he replied quietly, settling back on his heels.  “Where do you want me to put her?”

“Why don’t you have a seat here with her and we’ll go get her food,” Pepper suggested.

Bucky slowly pulled the cat against him and stood up.  The kitty did not enjoy the movement, but started purring again after he’d settled back in the easy chair.  It was comfy, and he felt very relaxed as he gently scratched the animal.  She kneaded his legs and he smiled contentedly at her.

Suddenly, she froze, and her hackles rose as she stared at the doorway.  He had the presence of mind to grab her before she could jump away as Tony and Pepper returned.

“She doesn’t like me,” Tony muttered, dropping back when he saw the cat’s reaction.

Pepper smiled slightly.  “Yeah, she does not seem fond of you,” she agreed, leaning down and extending a hand toward the cat.  Lacey didn’t seem to mind it when Pepper started petting her, but showed no interest in leaving Bucky’s lap.  “Well, here’s her food.  If you could get her to eat before you go, that would be appreciated.”

“I can stay,” Bucky replied, and the look between Pepper and Tony did not go unnoticed as he continued to pet the cat.  He was glad when they left, though.  It was a nice little room, with good company.


	18. Keep Dry in Wartime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's given kudos or commented on this! I hope you enjoy some WWII fluff :)

It was raining.  They were camped out in Italy, and it hadn’t stopped raining for days.  The mud was thick and made it impossible to move camp, at least not without leaving a significant amount of their supplies.  The horses were cranky and hungry because finding grass was difficult, and the men were restless.  The delay might have been appreciated if anyone was wounded, but no one was.  Some were sick, however, and would have to be moved in carts if they ever go out of there.

One of those who had fallen ill was the officer in charge of the camp, Colonel Chester Phillips.  He was brusque at the best of times, and was downright abrasive now.  His aide was very pleased to be dismissed while the colonel took a nap.  He couldn’t make himself too scarce, but at least he didn’t have to be snarled at for a while.

A commotion at the edge of the camp brought the attention of those lucky enough to be off-duty, and a crowd gathered to welcome the distraction.  Initially vaguely interested, the feeling of excitement soon ran through the assembly as they realized who it was – the Howling Commandos had returned!

“I’m telling you, Cap, it’s just my job to arrange the transportation, not make sure we go the right direction,” Private Timothy Dugan, better known as Dum Dum, was explaining.

Steve Rogers, even more impressive in person than the posters had conveyed, just smiled at him a little tiredly.  “Well, we’ve got the job done.  Circuitous route or no,” he replied.  The crowd seemed to make him self-conscious, and he glanced back to his sergeant.  Rumor had spread that James Buchanan Barnes, called Bucky, had been friends with Steve Rogers long before the war.  It was said that, if you wanted some really great stories about the super soldier, you should get Barnes a little tipsy.

“Pretty sure bringing enough gasoline is part of your job, though,” Barnes grumbled under his breath, frowning at his feet.

Dugan grinned at him.  “Come on, man, you like it.”

“Slogging through the mud for miles?  Not particularly, but thanks for the consideration,” Barnes shot back.

Phillips’ aide came forward to meet Rogers, interrupting the exchange.  “Captain,” he said, and they saluted each other.  Dugan seemed amused by this, though there wasn’t much that didn’t amuse him.  “The Colonel is a little under the weather.”

“I’d say we all are,” Dugan put in, and some of the fellas laughed.

“Seems like home,” Lieutenant James Falsworth quipped.

Corporal Jacques Dernier said something that sounded like agreement in French, and Private Gabriel Jones laughed.

Rogers gave them all a look, and they settled back, not into ranks exactly, but at least didn’t seem likely to interrupt again.  “Alright, did he leave orders concerning our accommodations?”

The aide nodded.  “Follow me, sir,” he said, and led them away.  The other men watched them go, in much better spirits than they had been.

 

After they were shown to their tents, the Commandos set about removing their dwindling supplies and changing into dry clothes.

“I’m going to need to bring a lot more bandages next time if Dernier isn’t going to give us a better warning,” Corporal James Morita grumbled, looking into his med pack.

“Don’t take it so hard, Jimmy,” Dum Dum told him with a grin.  “We got those guys and none of us are more than scratched.”

Morita rolled his eyes.  Jones turned to Dernier and must have passed along Morita’s sentiment because he looked very serious when he answered.

“Says the equipment is faulty out here.  Hopefully we can get some good stuff from the SSR,” Jones interpreted.

“Glad to see our communications specialist is always on duty,” Falsworth said lightly.

Jones grinned.  “Of course, sir,” he answered genially.

“Everything alright in here?” Rogers asked as he stepped into the doorway, brow furrowing when some of the water on the edge of the tent dripped down his neck.

“Just fine, boss,” Dum Dum replied.  The others nodded.

“Good.  Get some chow.  The debrief is in an hour.”

“You think the Colonel will be up by then?” Falsworth asked.

Rogers shrugged.  “Hope so,” he retorted as he turned away.

 

An hour later, Colonel Phillips was rudely awoken by seven of the best soldiers in the world standing outside of his tent.  Mostly complaining about the weather.

“What the hell is going on out there?” he demanded, turning over and wishing it were possible to get comfortable in the field.

“The Commandos are back, sir,” his aide explained, standing at attention by the doorway.

He swore several more times, which had no effect on his aide, and dragged himself over to his desk, bringing his blanket with him.  “Send the damn fools in,” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” the aide responded.

The men filed in, making less noise about it than usual but significantly more than he would have preferred.  “Captain Rogers,” he said by way of greeting.

“Sir,” Rogers responded.

“A success?”

“Yes, sir.”

Phillips narrowed his eyes at the too-innocent looks on the men’s faces.  He scanned them carefully.  “A success because you followed the plan we discussed,” he said flatly.

Rogers shifted forward slightly on his toes.  “No, sir.”

Biting back a curse, Phillips fixed him with a glare.  The effect was spoiled by a violent sneeze, and all of them hurried to bless him.  “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, waving his hand at them as he pulled out his handkerchief.  “So, what the hell happened out there, Captain?”

“Dugan got us there as planned, and we followed the plan of attack Falsworth provided to the letter, sir.”

“Until?”

“Until it became necessary to improvise, sir,” Rogers explained, staring straight ahead.

Phillips narrowed his eyes, preparing to do whatever was necessary to beat some sense into this kid.

“It wasn’t his fault, sir,” Barnes offered to forestall the lecture.

“It wasn’t your fault either, Buck,” Rogers told his friend quietly.

Phillips looked hard at the sergeant, thinking that he hadn’t heard the man speak out of turn before.  At least not in a formal setting.  “What happened, Sergeant Barnes?” he asked.

Barnes looked like he wanted to glance over at Rogers, but would not break his posture.  “We entered the facility as expected, but there were more locals taken captive than our intelligence reported.  HYDRA was… working them to death.  We had to deviate from the mission to get them out of there first,” he explained without emotion.

Sick though he was, Phillips could certainly understand what had caused these men to immediately change plans.  They waited in silence while he sneezed again, hard enough to set off a coughing fit.  When it finished, he leaned back against his chair and looked up at them appraisingly.  “How’d you leave the damn thing?”

“Completely destroyed, sir,” Rogers reported.

Phillips nodded slowly, scowling.  “Do you men realize that is the last HYDRA base we know about?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused, sounding pleased with themselves.

“Do you think that’s the only one left?”

The good spirits diminished a bit.  “No, sir,” they answered.

“Well, then, it seems like you gentlemen have a lot of work to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He surveyed them, each looking like horses chomping at the bit.  They were well-chosen, he reflected idly.  It was a good team, for all the arguing they did.  “Well, men, we will ship out at 0800.  See if Agent Carter’s made any headway on identifying HYDRA’s last stronghold.  Take the night off, but try not to let my camp end up like your enemies’ did today,” he added dryly.

The men grinned as they saluted and took their leave of him.  He hoped he could get some sleep before the men got too riled up.

 

“You okay, Buck?” Rogers asked Barnes quietly as they left the tent.

Barnes didn’t look at him.  “Just fine.  Bad assignment today.  I’m ready to go home, Steve.”

“Me too, Bucky, me too,” Rogers agreed, looking out at the muddy campsite, considering how much longer it would take to finish this.  One more place, maybe two, and then HYDRA would be defeated once and for all.

 


End file.
